


SpicyHoney Shorts

by keelywolfe



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell, Alternate Universe - Underswap, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Spicyhoney - Freeform, papcest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2019-05-09 10:06:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 23,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14714039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: A series of short one-shots for the Spicyhoney boys.





	1. Sleepless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge shouldn’t be here, but so long as he is…

* * *

The woods of Snowdin were the same in every universe, in Edge’s opinion. Take the monsters out of the equation and it was nothing more than a forest. All trees looked alike, whether they were in Underfell or Underswap. The main difference, he thought, was in Underswap he was less concerned about getting randomly stabbed in the back; less concerned but not completely.

Stretch was sitting at his shabby sentry station, his hood pulled up against the cold. He wasn’t asleep. There was a cup at his elbow, no longer wafting steam.

“Good morning,” Edge said.

Stretch looked as if he hadn’t slept in a week. The shadows beneath his sockets were a testament to his current bout of insomnia.

“hey, edge.” His voice sounded rough, not at all like the gentle huskiness of his normal whiskey-sweet one. The lack of nickname was telling. Edge didn’t think he’d need one hand to count the times Stretch had called him by his chosen name. “whatcha doing here?”

Instead of answering, Edge set the cup he was carrying down in front of him. “Here.”

Stretch didn’t ask. He didn’t pull the lid off to examine the contents. The show of trust kindled an emotion in Edge that he didn’t examine too closely. Stretch only picked up the cup and took a sip, sockets closing in pleasure as he drank. Four sugars and enough cream to turn the coffee a murky brown, sweet enough that Edge thought it would be worth reexamining if coffee was the beverage Stretch actually wanted to be drinking.

At least on this occasion it was well appreciated. Stretch sighed deeply as he set the cup back down, “thanks.”

There were hours left in his shift, Edge knew, and he knew that an idle day off was not easily afforded by any of them.

Edge didn’t need to be here. There was plenty to deal with in Underfell. Edge had his own work, his own duties. A simple text from Blue that mentioned his brother wasn’t sleeping shouldn’t have sent him here and now that he’d come and checked on Stretch, he should be on his way back.

Instead, he walked around the guard station, noting the amount of cigarette butts in the can on the ground. Silently, he nudged Stretch to scoot forward in his chair and he did, looking perplexed. He didn’t protest as Edge straddled the chair behind him, arms sliding around his waist to pull him in close.

It was snowing lightly around them, casting the woods in quiet. Stretch shifted in Edge’s arms, slipping down enough that his skull rested on Edge’s shoulder when he leaned back.

The shape of trees around them was blurred through the snow, silent guarding.

“why are you—” Stretch began. It ended in a yawn, barely muffled. He tried again. “why—”

“I’m not leaving,” Edge told him. “Go to sleep.”

“can’t,” Stretch murmured. A hand settled over Edge’s where it rested against Stretch’s sweatshirt, cold fingers circling his wrist.

“I’m not leaving,” Edge said again. Softer. He didn’t need to be here, he shouldn’t be here. But Stretch’s breathing was slowing, softening. His weight was light against Edge, delicate as one of the falling snowflakes, and there was a joke about skin and bones somewhere that Edge would never say.

Stretch, sleeping, wouldn’t be able to say it.

The light around them was grey and the snow was still falling. Stretch shivered against him and as carefully as he could, Edge pulled a blanket from his inventory and spread it over them both. Felt him relax and snuggle into the warmth. Cocooned against the cold, Edge held him, listening to him sleep, and kept watch. 

-fin


	2. Like No One is Watching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whenever Red gambles, Edge usually is the one losing even when he’s not the one betting against him. There are exceptions.

* * *

Saturday was cleaning day in the Fell household and normally Red helped. Grudgingly helped. Bitching the entire time helped. This Saturday Edge had a new sullen assistant.

Really, he could barely contain his joy.

Red was in Underswap, possibly watching a movie with Blue, more likely sleeping while Blue watched a movie. Basking in his winnings.

Stretch had no one but himself to blame. He should really know better than to bet with Red on anything that included food or eating. And Edge was going to have a chat with Red about his gambling because it seemed like lately whenever Red won a bet, Edge lost it, even though he wasn’t the one betting. 

Case in point–

Stretch slouched in front of him, hands in his pockets and looking more as though he were heading for a firing squad than a day of home improvement.

Edge sighed and reminded himself that he did care about this lazy idiot. Best to start easy. He held out a clean cloth and a spray bottle. “You’ll be dusting,” he instructed, “All the shelves and tables. All the picture frames. All the—”

“i get it, if it’s not carpeted, dust it,” Stretch grumbled. He took the cloth as if expect teeth to lash out from it at any moment.

“Do it right the first time or you’ll do it until it is right,” Edge warned. He fully expected there to be a second, possibly a third, and depending on how deep his sulk was, a fourth. Red’s record was currently sitting at nine.

He did take some pity on the other and turned on the television, choosing a music station and ignoring Stretch’s incredulous expression at his choice.

“seriously? how can you look like mötley crüe and act like barry manilow.”

“Clean,” Edge said gruffly. “This house won’t dust itself." 

Edge left him to it and went to brave Red’s room. Normally, he let it be; the rest of the house was kept clean to his standard, he could allow Red his aesthetic in his own room. Whatever that aesthetic was. He suspected trash heap was the closest comparison.

That being true, he did go in once a week to weed out dirty dishes. Clothes he only bothered with when the reek was starting to seep out from beneath the door but dirty dishes were intolerable. On this occasion, he only found one mustard-streaked glass shoved behind the mattress. Edge was almost proud; perhaps his brother was learning.

He took a quick look around the rest of the room and shuddered. No. Definitely not.

Glass in hand, Edge abandoned Red’s room to the semi-intelligent colonies that were surely moldering in his piles of socks. He closed the door and turned around, glancing downstairs at his captive maid and–

Stretch was dancing.

Not all out, not waltzing through the living room. Only a gentle shifting on his feet, hips swaying to the beat as Stretch ran the damp cloth over a side table. Distantly, Edge noted that he was being meticulous, invested in only doing this once as he worked the cloth into the scrollwork of the wood.

He had rhythm, Edge had to admit. And some skill, pausing to roll his arms through some move that Edge couldn’t name. If he actually put some effort into it, he was probably talented and…

Stretch was standing completely still, looking up at Edge. Caught staring, Edge only looked back.

Defensively, Stretch wrapped his arms around himself. “what?”

Definitely off-guard, No joke or sarcasm at the ready. When Edge didn’t answer him, Stretch gave him a last glare and stalked over to the walls. He wiped down the shelves stiffly, cheekbones hinting orange. Embarrassed.

Unacceptable.

Walking downstairs, Edge set the dirty glass on the end table that Stretch had just cleaned. Stretch gave him a baffled look when he took the cloth and spray bottle away from him and did the same.

Before Stretch could spit out the ‘what the fuck are you doing’ that Edge could see brewing in his eye lights, Edge draped his arms around him, “Don’t stop.”

“oh, come on,” Stretch muttered. He shuffled his feet, in discomfort, not dance.

The song changed, softer and slower, and Edge swayed, pulling Stretch along with him, pushing aside his own embarrassment and humming off-key.

Stretch sighed and pulled him into a real embrace, hands resting lightly at the small of his spine. Less a dance and more simply swaying in place like a prom in those ridiculous human high school movies Blue adored. He was tall enough that he could rest his skull on Edge’s shoulder; Edge leaned his own skull against his, let Stretch’s humming overshadow his own. At least Stretch could sing.

“this house won’t dust itself,” Stretch muttered, mimicking Edge earlier.

“It’s not going anywhere, either,” Edge said softly and didn’t let him go.

-fin


	3. That One Percent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s one of Those Days.

* * *

The sofa was old and lumpy, scrounged years ago from the dump, and much as Blue had attempted to reupholster and re-reupholster it, it remained as it always would be; old, lumpy, and safe bastion for Stretch to lay on one of those days.

He hadn’t bothered to turn on the television and it sat there, the dark screen glaring accusingly. Not that he really cared, turning it on was too much fucking effort and the taste of honey was still thick and comforting on the back of his tongue. Maybe later he’d turn on the television; it would help it look like he’d made an attempt even if Blue knew he hated Napstatton.

_(“stop trying to tell me what to do!”)  
(“I’m not, if you would listen for one fucking second–”)_

Fuck, he wanted a cigarette.

But that would involve going outside. Blue didn’t like it when he smoked in the house. Blue also didn’t like it when he drank honey straight from the bottle, but Blue was going to get over it because Stretch had already chosen the vice he was going to have to deal with for the day.

The door knob rattled and Stretch frowned. It was too early for his brother to be home and who the fuck else would be rude enough to come in without knocking—

It opened and Edge walked in, answering his question.

He walked over to stand in front of the sofa, crossing his arms and giving him a hard look as he took in the sight in front of him. The pack of cigarettes spilled out on the table with his lighter next to them, the mostly empty bottle of honey, Stretch himself, sprawled out on the sofa in the same clothes he’d been wearing yesterday, a little drunk and a lot miserable. He cringed inwardly, trying to keep it from his expression, waiting for the anger, the lecture.

Instead, Edge sighed softly. He nudged Stretch’s feet aside enough for him to sit on the end of the sofa. Wordlessly, he took the remote and turned on the television and the strains of Napstatton regaling them with his latest cooking show filled the room.

Long moments passed and Stretch shifted on the sofa, moving slowly, equal parts wary of Edge’s reaction and of his own ability to move. Edge didn’t stir, didn’t look at him, but when Stretch settled his head on his leg, he moved his hand to cup the back of his skull. His fingers were gentle as they shifted down to stroke his cervical vertebrate.

“This doesn’t mean you won the argument,” Edge said curtly. The tenderness of his fingers belied the sharpness of his words.

“i don’t want to win,” Stretch admitted. “i don’t care, anymore.”

A long silence and Edge sighed, his hand moving up to curve around Stretch’s skull again. “I don’t want you to not care, snowflake. That isn’t the point.”

Stretch turned so his face was buried into Edge’s pant leg, giving him better access to his spine as well as blocking out the light. He could feel his own trembling and hated it, he hated this, he couldn’t _deal_ with this, not right now, not–

“…okay,” Edge’s rough voice was wrapped in gentleness. Hearing it made it easier to breathe, somehow. “Okay, we can talk about it later. Talk, all right? No shouting, no name calling. Just talking.”

“Mmkay,” Stretch murmured sleepily. At the back of his head he was already devising a few dozen ways to get out of that. Ninety-nine percent weren’t going to work, not on Edge, but hey, there was always that one percent to try for.

Someone had always told Stretch to never let the odds work against you. Maybe someday he’d remember who.

The background noise and Edge’s petting were conspiring against him and Stretch let himself drift. Sleep would help, he’d wake up and things would be better. Probably. Things would be better, he would be better, things with Edge would be better. He knew it.

Fuck the odds.

-fin


	4. Collared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They should probably discuss it before trying new things…nah.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For @alicedragons, who has been so wonderful and welcoming since I started writing this pairing, and who mentioned a kink preference. Hey, I can do that!
> 
> **This chapter is Explicit.**

* * *

“so do you like it?”

“Like what?” Edge asked absently.

He looked up when Stretch didn’t answer, frowning at him for interrupting because what could be so import—

He went very still, magic flaring at his crotch so hotly it was almost painful.

Stretch was lounging against the doorway, his loose sweatpants hanging low on his pelvis and a plain tank top revealing more than Edge would prefer were he in public. His clothing was unimportant, barely worth noticing. It was the dark band circling his cervical vertebrae that had Edge’s attention.

A collar.

The sleek black leather was stark against pearly bone, the buckle gleaming silver; simple and plain. He could hear the faint creak of it as Stretch reached up and traced one delicate finger along the smooth leather.

Edge stood without thinking and stalked over to him. He ignored Stretch’s smirk, paid no mind to the slick run of his tongue over his teeth. Instead, he grabbed Stretch by his upper arms and pushed him into the wall, hard enough to make him wince.

“Take it off,” Edge said, low.

Uncertainty flickered over Stretch’s face. He reached up falteringly and did, fumbling to undo it. The moment the buckle was undone, Edge took it from him, running his gloved fingers over the leather, testing.

“i didn’t mean—”

“Hush,” Edge told him absently. He tugged both ends of the collar firmly and then nodded, satisfied. Stretch leaned against the wall, watching him with widened eye lights as he pulled a silver tag from his inventory, hooking it to the ring.

“There,” he murmured. With a single finger, he nudged Stretch’s chin up. He held perfectly still as Edge slid the collar back around his neck, fastening it a notch tighter than Stretch had.

The silver tag settled against Stretch’s sternum, chiming softly against the bone. It flashed in the light, highlighting the single word engraved in it, etched in his font.

_Papyrus_

Stretch swallowed and it made his cervical vertebrae shift, the collar riding the movement and the tag clattering gently.

Edge leaned in, watched as Stretch’s eye lights went even wider. It made him look younger, more innocent than the collar and clothes should allow. Their faces were inches apart, their breath shared between them, shallow and quick.

“Only I get to collar you,” Edge told him, low.

“i didn't…i wasn't…” Stretch stammered and Edge let him, waiting. He gathered himself visibly, drawing on the cool assurance Edge knew so well, that smirk that could both irritate and arouse. “whatever you say, lover.”

“I do say,” Edge growled, and stooped enough to hook his arms under Stretch’s legs, hoisting him up and pushing him into the wall. Stretch yelped, scrabbling to hold on to him and Edge could feel the heat at his crotch even through two layers of clothes.

“yeah,” Stretch whimpered out, “yeah, that's…yeah, just you, always you, hnnn!”

Fingers digging into Edge’s shoulders and his wail choked off as Edge buried his face at his throat, lapping at the clean white bone surrounding the collar, tasting Stretch’s sweetness and the dark, richness of leather.

He braced his boots against the floor and pushed against Stretch, rocking their hips together and arousal overwrote any irritation, the sight of his name at Stretch’s throat like a direct shot to his cock. He bit down on strong bone, felt the vibration of Stretch’s shocked cry and he convulsed against Edge, his heels digging into the small of Edge’s back as he shivered and whimpered, wet heat blooming through his thin sweatpants.

Edge didn’t waste time unbuckling his belt, only shifted to brace Stretch against the wall as he shoved his pants down enough to palm his cock, stroking fiercely as Stretch clung to him weakly. Beautiful Stretch, smeared with his own come, trembling against him and wearing his name. Edge groaned aloud as he came hard, letting his magic splatter in wet, crimson streaks over Stretch’s tank top and ribs, watching in satisfaction as it soaked into his shirt, marked his bones.

His grip was weakening and Stretch was sliding down the wall. Edge joined him, slowing his descent until they were sitting on the floor, Stretch straddling his lap and resting his forehead against Edge’s shoulder. He stirred weakly, his breath soft on the side of Edge’s skull.

“you didn’t answer my question.”

Edge lifted a hand to his mouth and tugged off his glove with his teeth. Barehanded, he hooked his fingers against black leather, rubbed his thumb over the engraved letters in the tag.

“I like it,” Edge said hoarsely. “Don’t wear it out of the house.”

“just for you, lover,” Stretch agreed, a smile in his voice. “just for you.”

fin


	5. A Little Edgy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stretch seriously hadn’t signed on for this shit. For one, he’s a terrible babysitter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Really, I can’t help myself. I got this idea in my head and had to do it. Warnings for adorable babybones.

* * *

“you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Stretch stared at the tiny blanket-wrapped bundle in his arms. The infant slept on, his little sockets closed. It had been ages since Stretch had held a baby but instinct had him cradling this one in the crook of his arm, holding him close.

“does it fucking look like i’m kidding?” Red’s voice cracked and Stretch could see the tremor in his hands. Darkness shadowed his sockets. "look, he can’t stay in underfell and i can’t keep making excuses to why i’m not at my sentry posts. i can lie my way around it for boss but we can’t both be out. it’s just for today, the magic’s not supposed to last much longer.“

"how did it even happen?” Stretch couldn’t stop staring at the baby. His socket wasn’t cracked and he was a lot fucking smaller but it was obvious it was Edge. A very tiny Edge dressed in footie pajamas. There was a little hood pulled over his skull with kitten ears on it.

Stretch wasn’t positive but he suspected that this level of cute was possibly fatal. 

“we can play truth or dare some other time,” Red snapped. “i have to get back. can you watch him or not?”

“i…but…” Stretch stammered, “but why me?”

“why not you? you took care of your bro when he was little, didn’t ya?”

“that was a long time ago!”

Red sighed and for once there was no smugness, no careless disinterest in the world around him. He looked tired and worried, his shoulders sagging. 

“please,” Red gritted out. It sounded torn from him, like it had left him bleeding somewhere and Stretch swallowed hard.

“hey don't…look, i’ll keep him safe, all right?”

“promise?”

Stretch didn’t bother with false indignation. “i promise.”

He held out a pinkie and Red hooked it with his own gravely.

“okay, i gotta get back.” He slung a bag off his shoulder and Stretch noted with a sense of unreality that it had a colorful cartoon giraffe on the side. “here’s some stuff i got for him. he likes cinnamon bunnies but only give him half a one. break it up into little pieces or he’ll cram the whole thing in his mouth. he’s got a spare set of clothes and a bib— 

"red,” Stretch interrupted him, “get lost, i’ve got this. hey, you be careful, all right? i don’t want to explain to him that i let you get dusted while i was babysitting.”

"nah, i’ll be fine,” Red waved off his concern. With a gentleness Stretch wouldn’t have guessed Red possessed, he pressed his mouth to baby Edge’s skull, his teeth clacking dully through the cushion of the hood. “be good, bro,” he murmured.

Stretch was pretty sure that this was what the beginnings of insanity felt like.

Red turned on his heel and stalked out the door. It slammed behind him and the baby stirred at the sound. He opened his sockets and looked up at Stretch with that solemnity all infants seemed to possess.

Huh, his eye lights were white. That brought up some questions.

As Stretch watched his tiny face slowly crumpled and when he parted his teeth a wail escaped him, thin and unhappy.

“all right, shhhh, it’s okay, kiddo,” Stretch soothed, cuddling him close. Maybe you really didn’t forget this shit because it seemed automatic to bounce him gently until little Edge settled into a hiccoughing whimper, “we’ll get you something to eat, how about that, baby bones?”

Digging through the bag turned up the cinnamon bunny, along with the bib and another set of footie pajamas, this one with panda ears. Stretch settled Edge to sit on his lap, breaking off little pieces to feed him. Edge seemed just as content to smash the bits of pastry into his face as he was to eat them but whatever. His unintelligible babbles were sweet and bright, and when he smiled happily up at Stretch with his crumb covered teeth, Stretch was pretty sure he lost a point off his HP.

“i should warn you, i’m gonna take about a thousand pictures of this,” Stretch told him, wiping away a soggy crumb from Edge’s teeth with his thumb.

“Bzzzzrpt,” Edge said agreeably. He squealed in delight as Stretch scooped him up and flopped on his back to hold the baby above him. His little arms outstretched, Edge shrieked and giggled as Stretch swooped him around, until he yawned hugely, rubbing at his tiny sockets.

“okay, baby bones,” Stretch cuddled him close, climbing to his feet just long enough to sprawl out on the sofa, snagging the blanket draped over the back. Edge settled against him, tucking his little head against Stretch’s sternum. He was asleep in moments, a little patch of drool from the corner of his mouth spreading over Stretch’s sweatshirt. 

Stretch looked down at him and he was pretty sure that squeezing pressure he felt in his soul meant he was dying. At least he was gonna die happy.

“we’re getting you in those panda pajamas before the end of the night,” Stretch mumbled. He wrapped an arm around Edge, settling a hand under his bony bottom and holding him close. Almost absently, he pressed a kiss to the top of his head, right between the kitten ears. The baby stirred minutely, breathing out a tiny sigh.

An hour later Blue found them like that and the sight of his brother curled up under a blanket with what seemed to be a naked Edge brought up some very serious and perplexed questions. He tucked them into the back of his mind for later, carefully drawing the blanket back up over the two of them.

His brother sighed sleepily, his hand sliding up to cradle Edge’s skull in a gentle, protective hold. In turn, Edge burrowed deeper into the blanket, his face pressed against Papy’s sternum and a blotch of magic drooled from his lax mouth darkening the sweatshirt. Blue shook his head and left them there to sleep.

But not before taking a picture. 

-finis


	6. A Lot Edgier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, Stretch did say he was taking pictures.
> 
> A sequel to the previous chapter, “A Little Edgy”

* * *

It was second day in a row that a Fell monster had showed up uninvited in Stretch’s living room. He was thinking of putting up a sign with their hours on them. Fell monsters welcome on Tuesdays and Thursdays only, between 12pm and 5pm. No soliciting.

Today was fucking Wednesday and he’d earned a day off from this bullshit.

Edge stood in that asshole way he had, so that he was looming over Stretch where he was sprawled on the sofa. He was in fine not-baby form, back to his normal clothes and also his normal grumpy expression. A shame such a nice piece of ass had to come with that face but eh, that was why they’d invented doggy-style. Not that Stretch knew from personal experience… “I need to speak to you.”

“i’ve never been able to stop you,” Stretch yawned. He shifted to drape one long leg over the back of the sofa. “but you might choose a less salty tone if you want something from me.”

“Yesterday,” Edge ground out and nope, still salty and sour as vinegar chips, the fucker. “I assume you have photos of the incident.”

“is that what we’re calling it? the ‘incident’,” Stretch made little finger quotes just to see Edge hate him doing it. From the way his brow bone twitched, he’d nailed it. “maybe,” Stretch said, shrugging. “not giving them to you. you can torture me, pull out my fingernails-”

“You don’t have fingernails, idiot.”

“break my bones, rip out my eyes, i won't…ouch!” He glared up at Edge, rubbing the top of his skull where the other skeleton had smacked him. “that was a bad touch. i need an adult.”

“The only adult around here is Blue and he’s with your Alphys. Now give me the pictures.”

“no,” Stretch sulked. He slouched down, half his face hidden beneath the neck of his hoodie, muffling his words. “and you can’t make me. i’m not letting you tear them up.”

“Leaving aside the fact that I _can_ make you—”

“i’m going to tell blue you’re picking on me. he’ll cut off your cooking plans.”

“—I’m not going to tear them up!” Edge snarled.

Yeah, right, and he probably had a bridge in Waterfall to sell. “i don’t believe you. why else would you want them? you’re not going to lull me into a false sense of security, you don’t have any to spare.”

For the first time in Stretch’s memory, Edge looked away from him first which…wow. That was like some anti-dominant weakness shit or something, right? He was quiet for a long moment, fingers drumming against his elbow, before he finally ground out, “I want them for Red.”

“you…really?”

“Of course,” Edge snapped. “He doesn’t have anything left from when we were children. He made a comment this morning about regretting not taking pictures while I was…transformed. Of course, he implied they were for blackmail but—”

“but you know better,” Stretch finished. Slowly, he grinned, giving Edge an appraising look. “huh. wow, that’s actually really sweet.”

“Shut up. Do you have the pictures or not?”

“hmm.” Stretch steepled his fingers, considering, just to see Edge shifting impatiently. When he could see crimson magic starting to spark at Edge’s fingertips, he sighed. Giving in this fast sucked but holding out longer was probably going to involve property damage. “you know, if this was a video game, you’d have to do a quest for me first. hang on.” He disappeared with a telltale pop of teleportation, returning moments later, holding out a sheaf of photos. “here you go.”

Edge’s expression shifted from his normal constipated distaste to horror as he flipped through the pictures. He stopped on the one of him with smashed cinnamon bunny on his face, beaming happily at the camera. It was a particular favorite of Stretch’s. Right now it was the background on his phone. And his profile picture on the Undernet. “What the fuck am I wearing?!”

Stretch shrugged, flopping back into the loving yet lumpy comfort of his sofa. “don’t ask me, you came that way straight from the factory.”

He shook his head. “My brother is far more disturbed than I ever thought.”

“nah, it was cute as hell.” Stretch slouched against the sofa arm, watching Edge continue to flip through the stack.

“Exactly,” The last picture made him pause and redness crept up his cheekbones. Oh, right. Welp, he hadn’t meant to include that picture. Oops. "You took a picture of that?“ he hissed, his eye lights pinpoints of rage.

"do you not see that i am asleep in that picture too?” Stretch snorted. “i’m good but i’m not that good. even i can’t be in two places at once. eh, not fast enough to take a picture, anyway. blue took it. i can keep it if you want?”

He held out a hand and Edge clutched the pictures to his chest. “No!”

“Aww, you like the cuddle pics,” Stretch cooed. It was pretty cute. Not to mention Edge had been bare-bone naked when the two of them had woken up, the baby pajamas little more than a rag. It was pretty damn difficult to be aloof and dignified when all you were wearing was a blanket but hell, Edge hadn’t done half-bad. Stretch would give him an eight-point-five on a scale of ten. It probably went to eleven if he took into account Edge stalking out the door in the same blanket, ignoring Blue’s shrill offer of clothes. Stretch would have paid a fortune to see Edge strolling into his own house in Underfell like that. Two fortunes.

“I’m planning on burning it.”

“whatever,” Stretch yawned. “better make sure to put a hex on it when you do. blue made a bunch of copies.”

Edge closed his eyes, his expression one of truest pain. “You are all disturbed.”

“yeah, and you’re just plain disturbing. beat it, edgelord, i need a nap.” He sank back on the sofa and closed his eyes. He was mostly asleep when he felt a light pressure against his skull, gentle and warm. “wha—” he blinked sleepily, to see Edge leaning over him.

“According to these pictures, I owed you one of those,” Edge smirked. “Go to sleep, lazy ass.”

He turned on heel—

(–and Stretch could admit to some jealousy at how well he walked in those heels. Not as good as bare-assed but–)

-closing the door gently behind him.

Stretch reached up and touched the spot on his skull, almost between his eye sockets. He fancied he could still feel the warmth and distantly noticed the slight tremor in his fingers.

Uh, nope. All kinds of nope right there. Not dealing with this shit today.

With an impatient huff, he rolled over, burrowing into the sofa. He had a sleepy thought of putting that sign up, Tuesdays and Thursdays only for Fell bullshit but…nah.

He told himself he wasn’t thinking about that kiss.

Not even a little.

-finis-


	7. Touching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge has issues but then, don't we all, and life is never just a walk in the park

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stretch's low HP is apparently a point of fascination for me. Or else I just like hurting him. Either is possible.

* * *

When it came down to it, it was Edge's fault. Yes, Stretch had been being obnoxious but Edge should be used to that by now; years of experience in dealing with his own brother's irritating nature should have inured him to it. 

The problem was Edge did not like being touched in public. If asked, he doubted he could even properly explain why. On one hand, he'd been raised with the knowledge that any show of caring in front of others was a display of weakness or a way of lowering defenses. On the other, they were no longer in his 'verse, that danger had subsided. He should be able to get past that instinct and live in _this_ 'verse. He was stronger than his fucking urges. He _should_ be. 

They'd only been walking through the park.

Or rather, meandering through the park at the quickest pace Stretch would allow. If Edge had been on his own, he likely would have been jogging; headphones in and ignoring any odd glances the Humans threw his way. It was easier to manage those looks when they were only in passing. 

At Stretch's pace those looks lingered, resting on Edge for far too long, and Stretch's chatter didn't mask curious murmurs as well as his headphones did. Edge had been too aware, already on the border of discomfort when he'd felt Stretch's fingertips against his own, trying to hold his hand. Automatically, Edge had pulled away. Only for Stretch to try again, more insistently this time, until they were almost wrestling, jostling against each other and Edge had felt his thin hold on his temper fraying. 

He should have said something. Should have pulled away completely, he should have—he shouldn't have pushed Stretch roughly away, far rougher than he'd meant. They'd already been half-tangled together and Stretch never tied his damn shoelaces anyway; the haze of his anger had vanished when Stretch tripped over his own feet, going down to the ground hard enough to knock a point off his HP.

Edge had been crouching in an instant, reaching out, his hands hovering helplessly in the air as Stretch turned over with a wince to sit on the ground. The knees of his pants had been torn, his hands scratched by the gravel, deeply enough that Edge could see thin lines of marrow. 

The injuries made him ache to remember but it was his expression that Edge wasn't going to forget. 

Stretch had looked at him, eye lights pain-widened and yet, it wasn't his injuries that gave him that wounded look, a hurt that went past his scrapes and loss of HP. 

Edge had only seen it a moment before Stretch had abruptly vanished, leaving him alone in the park, standing next to a smear of marrow on the asphalt. If there were any Humans staring, whispering about him from behind their hands, he was past noticing. 

He'd gone to sit on a nearby bench for close to an hour. He knew a variety of calming techniques, a necessity for any monster with LV, and he'd gone through them all. And now he was here.

The Swap brothers had baskets of hanging flowers around their porch and bees buzzed cheerfully through them, more flowers gathered at the base alongside the occasional lawn gnome. A picture of domesticity. Edge did not allow himself to hesitate. He walked up to the door with its cheery welcome mat and knocked briskly.

The door opened and Blue looked up at him steadily. 

"Hello, Edge, I wasn't expecting you," he said evenly. "Did you need something?" Blue was a consummate host and this was the first time he hadn't immediately invited Edge in. Another hurt to add to his internal wounds.

"Yes," Edge said. He made a point of not looming over Blue. "I want to see your brother." He had no argument as to why he should be allowed, nothing past his presence, his own desperate need. 

"blue," called from behind him. "stop it. let him in."

There was a long pause. Blue's eye lights did not waver and Edge did not begrudge him his anger. He knew precisely how he'd feel if Red had come home like Stretch had.

Abruptly, Blue held the door open and walked away. The kitchen door swung on its hinges as he went through it. Edge stepped inside and quietly closed the door behind him. 

On the sofa, Stretch was sprawled out, leaning against the arm and his legs stretched out over the cushions. He was in a fresh t-shirt and shorts, and Edge flinched to see the bandages on his knees. HP could be replenished easily enough but damaged bone took a little time to heal. 

Edge didn't sit on the end of the sofa, he lowered himself to sit on the floor, resisting the urge to touch Stretch; he wanted to, so badly, wanted to gauge his pain, wanted to…needed to apologize, to beg forgiveness and the words were clotted in his throat, struggling to be spoken, he didn't deserve forgiveness, he didn't--

"i'm sorry," Stretch said quietly and Edge blinked, his thoughts severed cleanly. 

"What…you're sorry?" he blurted.

Stretch nodded. He was looking at his own lap, toying with the frayed threads at the hem of his shorts. "i knew how uncomfortable you were and i kept pushing so yeah, i'm sorry."

Thickness was settling into Edge's throat, refusing to be swallowed away, "I should have—

"no," Stretch interrupted. "you shouldn't have. there is no reason at all for you to make yourself uncomfortable just because i was being a dick. i know you don't like to touch in public. "

"I could have said something to you," Edge said hoarsely. "I could have tried harder."

"yeah, see, that's the problem. you could have but you shouldn’t have needed to. edge," he sighed, finally looking at him. "you can accept my apology or not; just let me know either way."

Hesitantly, Stretch reached out and touched Edge's cheekbone and that hesitance made Edge ache. His fingers were scraped, his knuckles bandaged, and Edge closed his sockets and pushed into that soft touch. "Of course I accept it. If you accept mine for pushing you."

"stop that right now. you didn't hurt me, I tripped. if you have to blame something for hurting me, try the asphalt. i'm the asshole here, you're a perfectly good boyfriend."

"A boyfriend who can't hold your hand in the park," Edge said, low. "Your standards are incredibly low if you set the bar of relationships at not causing physical damage."

"my standards aren't low," Stretch smiled a little. "you just happen to meet all of them. C'mere?"

Edge scrambled to his feet, sitting on the edge of the cushion and pulling Stretch into his arms, gently, trying not to jostle his legs. Only to have Stretch thwart his efforts by squirming into his lap, stubbornly wincing his way along until he was settled. Edge wrapped both arms tightly around him and breathed him in, his normal honey-sweet and the wrongness of sharp antiseptic. 

_I'm sorry_ , Edge whispered in his thoughts. He didn't say it aloud. 

Here, in this quiet privacy, he held Stretch close, allowed himself to cling; smoothed his hands over delicate bone and pressing kisses to Stretch's skull and cheekbones, to his teeth when Stretch leaned into it. Skirting bandages and tangling their fingers together. 

Letting himself touch and be touched. 

 

-finis


	8. Playing Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not a major crisis? Great, let Edge deal with it.

* * *

It still felt strange to walk into the Swap brothers’ home without knocking. Every nerve Edge had prickled at the knowledge that they rarely locked their door during the day and probably wouldn’t at night if Edge hadn’t put his foot down. If Edge and Red weren’t in Underfell any longer then neither were any of them in Underswap, and in the human world they were going to abide by at least some human rules. For one, locking their doors at night.

Stretch wasn’t in his usual spot on the sofa and a quick check found his room empty as well. Edge found Blue in the kitchen simply by following the enticing smells.

“Where is your brother?” Edge asked, more curious than worried. 

Blue was standing on a stepstool by the stove, stirring something. He was wearing an apron Edge hadn’t seen before but considering it was emblazoned with the sentiment, ‘I cook as well as I look’, he suspected it had been a gift from said brother. Blue looked up at him with a certain weariness, saying, “He’s out back, dealing with some sort of self-destructive crisis.”

Ah. Edge considered that. “Aren’t you supposed to be worried about that?”

Blue shook his head. “I only worry about major incidents. If I had to handle every minor incident Papy had, we would have no income until I finished my tell-all book.” He smirked a little. “You wanted him, now go get him. Tell him dinner is almost ready.”

“I’m not sure I want to deal with his minor incidents, either.”

“You volunteered when you started dating him,” Blue pointed out and, well, that was a hard point to argue.

The family who had owned the house before them had had children at least once upon a time, as evidenced by the swing set sitting out back. Initially, they were going to remove it and open up the area for more of Blue’s already expansive garden. It was Rus who’d noticed how crestfallen Stretch had seemed at the idea, because Stars forbid he simply say something. With unusual discretion, Rus had taken it upon himself to clean it up, sanding and painting the wood, and replacing the swings.

Naturally, when Rus had finished and shown them all, Stretch hadn’t said a word. He’d smoked his cigarette and pushed one of the swings with his foot, watching it sway with a faint creak of the chains.

He’d also given Rus a surprisingly tight hug, one that had been happily returned. 

In the fading light of the setting sun, Stretch was sitting on one of the swings, swaying back and forth, his feet dragging softly through the grass.

“Your brother is making dinner,” Edge told him. He leaned against one of the support beams and crossed his arms, watching Stretch.

“not really hungry,” Stretch shrugged. That was never a good sign but if he was bordering on a depressive episode, there was little anyone could do to prevent it. Blue was far more intuitive when it came to his brother and if he wasn’t worried, then Edge would simply have to follow his lead.

Careful not to show any concern that would only be resented, Edge only sat on the swing next to him. With push of his toes, he was moving to and fro, swinging gently. Human children had no idea what gifts their world offered them. Without a word, Stretch followed his rhythm until they were swinging in tandem. He was smiling, just a little.

A slight pulse of relief throbbed in Edge’s soul. It was better that he was smiling, much better. The sun was nearly down and crickets were starting up their song around them. “Are you going to come in?”

“nope. i live here now. i am one with the outdoors.”

“You’ll be inside the second you feel a drop of rain,” Edge said dryly. He dragged his feet on the ground until the swing came to a stop. “Come on, you may not be hungry but I am, and it would be nice to have decent food that I didn’t have to cook for a change.”

Stretch slowed to a stop and Edge could see the spark of his lighter as he flicked it absently. For a moment Edge thought he would turn him down, that Stretch would simply sit out here and smoke and Edge would have no choice but to leave him here alone.

Instead, he dropped his lighter into his pocket and climbed to his feet with a groan. “yeah, okay, let’s see what the bro made.”

Another, stronger, throb of relief and Edge slipped an arm around Stretch’s waist, pulling him in for a soft kiss. Stretch returned it with a faint sigh, a gentle touch in the quiet darkness.

Whatever his minor incident was, it seemed to have been called off in favor of dinner, Edge decided. A small victory but he’d take it.

-fin


	9. Dirty Laundry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s not like Stretch doesn’t have plenty of his own clothes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has no redeeming qualities, it’s just pure smut. Damn, do I love these boys.

* * *

Stretch had plenty of his own clothes.

For one, Blue loved shopping. Once they'd gotten to the surface and Blue had discovered the real internet, well, he was kinda on the level of unstoppable. He was pretty damn good at finding a deal, too, and Stretch had plenty of clothes to choose from, from hoodies to t-shirts, dress shirts that he ignored and even ones with such charming slogans as, 'I find everything humerus'.

His bro knew him so well.

So yeah, lots of clothes, so he didn't have much excuse for stealing Edge's t-shirt. It was just a plain black t-shirt and it fit fine. They were nearly the same size; Stretch a little taller but Edge a little broader, it came out even in the end. Honestly, Stretch hadn't really thought about it, it was just the first thing he'd grabbed from the pile of their clothes on the floor when he'd shuffled out of the bedroom in search of coffee.

Blearily, he leaned against the counter, watching the dark brown elixir of the gods pour into the carafe. He'd heard the shower running but somehow his caffeine deprived mind hadn't really registered it as Edge taking a shower. It was a background noise, easily dismissed in his search for the magic potion of morning life. He was completely sticking with that as his reason for why he startled and almost knocked his empty cup off the counter when Edge spoke directly behind him.

"Can I have my shirt back?" Edge asked. Made sense, he probably wanted to get home. He sounded dryly amused but when Stretch slumped around to look at him, he felt a hot pulse in his soul because his voice? That was the only part of him that was dry.

A towel was still slung around his neck and he had his pants on, his iliac crests rising up over the waistband, and every part of him that Stretch could see was still faintly damp. Gleaming ivory bone, shapely ribs and that hint of pelvis; the seams of cracked and healed bone were visible here and there but it only seemed to beg for more attention, arrogantly displaying his strength against wounds that didn't kill him. Edge was the exact opposite of shy but it wasn't like he pranced around wearing nothing but his pants on any given day.

Good golly fuckasaurus, Stretch wanted every inch of that.

He didn't even feel quite awake yet, the world still sleepily hazed and foggy. His own bones ached just a little, a good, well-fucked ache from the night before and exactly none of that kept his magic from all but dropping heavily into his pelvis. His cunt felt damp against his shorts, his own wetness leaking and the coarseness of the fabric nearly unbearable.

Edge was still looking at him, one brow bone raised when Stretch made no attempt to give back his shirt. He didn't move when Stretch reached up, his unsteady fingertips grazing Edge's cheekbone and he ignored Edge's bemused look, leaned into all that glorious, damp bone and kissed him.

Give the boy a gold piece, he caught on quickly. He curled his tongue into Stretch's mouth even as he slid his hands down to his pelvis and under his femurs, lifting Stretch easily to sit him on the countertop, coffee cups and spoons clattering as he pushed them carelessly out of the way. Stretch could smell the coffee brewing and his own body wash, and Edge's tongue was soft and addictive, better by miles than any caffeine.

He moaned into Edge's mouth when he pushed a hand beneath that dark t-shirt, soft and thin from so many washings, pointed fingertips sliding against the spaces between his ribs, scraping gently.

Edge's teeth were sharp, jagged as a broken glass and never once had he hurt Stretch with them. He bit softly at the tip of Stretch's tongue before pushing him back further against the cupboards. Eased down to his knees, pressing his face into Stretch's lap to breathe him in and Stretch could only let his skull drop back against the cupboard with a thunk and a garbled sound. Teeth grazed him through his shorts and anyone would think he hadn't come in a fucking year, in a lifetime, desperate as a virgin the way his cock perked up eagerly at Edge's touch.

He made a feeble effort to brace himself, gripping the edge of the counter until it cut into his finger bones when Edge pushed down his shorts and pulled his dick out, his mouth hot and strong around him, swallowing him down into the tightness of a conjured throat. Holy jumped up genie hat, he was getting sucked off in his own kitchen with the last gurgle of fresh coffee dripping into the carafe directly next to them.

His balance was more than a little precarious, the countertop only barely wide enough to sit on and his bare heels drumming against wood as he scrabbled for leverage that didn't exist. Edge had both hands on his pelvis, holding him down as he worked Stretch with the wet heat of mouth, the pressure of his sleek tongue curled against him as he swallowed against the thickness of his cock.

Stretch gasped wetly, wordless for once, and almost whimpered a protest when Edge pulled off and then a strong hand was around him, working him in hard, quick strokes and the both of them watched him come in messy streaks over Edge's slim finger bones and his shirt, spatters falling down warm on his femurs.

Stretch squeezed his sockets shut so tightly that they ached and it still didn't block out the image that came to his thoughts when he felt the delicate touch of a tongue against his femur, lapping at him, thumbs stroking through the cooling streaks of come.

Barely, Stretch managed to wedge his sockets open and groaned aloud to see Edge was looking at him, deep red eye lights and his teeth still wet and gleaming. Stretch had to swallow twice before he managed to husk out, "you messed up your shirt."

A sharp grin greeted that, "I'll borrow one of yours."

Well, yeah. Stretch supposed he was gonna, at that. The brief fantasy he had of getting Edge into his 'bone daddy' t-shirt was blotted out by Edge standing, cupping his chin with sharp fingers and pressing their teeth together, feeding him a taste of his own come.

"oh, you fucker," Stretch groaned into his mouth, even as Edge took him by the wrist, pulling his hand down between his legs and curving his palm over the rise of his own dick through his pants.

Welp, may as well ruin all the clothes they could. Stretch had plenty.

-fin


	10. A Winding Path

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was not what was supposed to happen. Stretch is pretty sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It occurred to me that I tend to write Edge and Stretch a very specific way that I won’t spoil by mentioning it here. Figured I’d try a little reversal. Probably NSFW.

Stretch had built the window seat after the third time his brother had scolded him for smoking inside. Having to smoke by an open window was bad enough but expecting him to stand while he did it was a step too far. Outside of the house was the artificial night of underground and Stretch smoked in silence, his back to the bed and the monster sleeping in it.

It didn’t mute his awareness that Edge was asleep in his bed and he wasn’t sure how they’d gotten here, it hadn’t been on the agenda, none of this had.

Distantly, he noticed he was shaking. He smoked his cigarette down to the filter, leaning over to stub it out in the ashtray on his desk before lighting another. The rasp of the lighter seemed too loud, the glow of the tip too bright, and he realized Edge was awake only a moment before he spoke.

“Why are you having a panic attack now?” Edge’s voice was always rough, grating out of his throat and Stretch didn’t want to know how he’d damaged it. At this moment it was syrupy warm and sleepy and fuck, inviting, promising dark, sweet things if Stretch crawled back under the blankets.

He stayed where he was. “i’m not having a panic attack.”

“You’re on your third cigarette and you’re still jittering so hard I can hear your bones rattling.” Now his voice was lined with amusement. “You won, I’m here, and you’ve already fucked me. What do you have to be worried about now?”

“don’t say it like that!” Stretch groaned. His cigarette was only burned down halfway but he crushed it out anyway, drawing his feet up onto the window seat and wrapping his arms around his knees. It was cold with the window open, the everlasting wintry chill of Snowdin pouring in.

Edge rolled over on to his side and propped his chin on his hand. The blankets pooled down at his hips, exposing him from his pelvis to his collarbone, forcing Stretch to avert his eyes. He looked at his own fingers; the bones of his knuckles were yellowed to the point that no amount of washing cleaned the stains away.

“If I say it differently, will it change anything?” Edge sounded genuinely curious.

“that’s not what—” _meant_ Stretch tried to say. Not what he’d meant. His voice was weak and thready, harshened by too many cigarettes in too short a time. It faltered, words trailing off as Edge trailed his fingers down his own ribcage, the sharpened tips scraping bone. He wasn’t looking, refused to look, but he could hear it, an offering, a temptation.

“I can still feel your come on me,” Edge said, idly. As if the thought had only just occurred to him, as if he wasn’t sprawled naked and inviting in Stretch’s bed.

“i didn’t mean for this to happen,” Stretch blurted, words falling from him the way they sometimes did, carelessly and without concern for the damage they did. “i was…i was only teasing, i wasn't—”

“You weren’t pinning me to your bed and fucking me?” Edge asked, raising a brow bone, “Funny, I remember it differently.”

“fuck, just stop!” Stretch covered his face with both hands, breathing harshly, “you’re the same age as my brother. my baby brother.”

“Is that what’s gotten you wound up?” Now Edge sounded bored. He dropped back on the bed, one arm draped over his eye sockets. “How unoriginal of you.”

“i’m not…would you stop twisting everything i say!”

“That’s not something I ever thought I’d hear from you,” He lifted his arm enough to look out, eye lights a red gleam in the darkness. “Come back to bed.”

“i can’t do this.” Stretch protested weakly. He’d only been flirting, he flirted with everyone, ask _anyone_ , but he wasn't…he didn’t know how they’d gotten here…he’d never expected Edge to flirt back, he’d never considered that somewhere along the line he’d lose his mind and kiss him, and, yeah, push him back on the mattress and he hadn’t expected Edge to let him, he hadn’t meant to–

“You already have. Come back to bed.”

He could still taste Edge’s magic, heavy and dark in the back of his throat and Stretch had smoked three cigarettes and still couldn’t swallow it away. “you…you're…and blue…”

“Your brother and mine have nothing to do with this. And if we’re being honest, older and younger lose their meaning when you consider levels of maturity. Come back to bed.”

“i…i don't…” Stretch was running out of arguments for a fight he couldn’t admit he didn’t even want to win.

“Papyrus?” Softer, the rough edges smoothed and coaxing. “Come back to bed.”

Stumbling and still shaking, Stretch went, not even closing the window and beneath the blankets was as warm as another world, a different universe where Edge smirked up at him, let Stretch roll him on his back and settle between his legs. Let himself sink into Edge’s warmth, drinking in the soft, needy sounds he made, the way he closed his sockets and tipped his head back, offering his neck. Stretch wanted to fucking drown in it and he hadn’t meant for this to happen.

But hell, he was already here, may as well follow the path all the way down.

-finis-


	11. Popping (the) a Question

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Late night almost questions and kinda answers

* * *

 

Though he'd never admit it, to Edge the few moments just after sex were very nearly as good as the sex was. Sitting up against the headboard with his lover curled up next to him and with the overwhelming need sated, in some ways it was almost better.

Almost.

Next to him, Stretch was still faintly sweaty though his breathing had calmed. The hazy glow of his soul was still visible beneath the sheet, throbbing softly with magic. It was a disturbingly attractive look on him, Edge decided, gently stroking his skull where it rested by his hip. His fingers were lightly tinted orange; Stretch's magic always latched on to him before it dissipated, as clingy as its creator.

"Are you still awake?" Edge asked softly. Not loud enough to wake him up if he'd already fallen asleep but enough to catch him from teetering over if he hadn't.

It earned him a noncommittal grunt, which Edge took as a _yes, of course, I would never fall asleep immediately after sex without bothering to wash up or even straighten the blankets._

"Have you ever thought about getting married?"

A long moment of silence and then, "okay, yeah, i’m awake," Stretch shifted enough to peer up at Edge. "let's discuss this not-at-all inflammatory subject at ass o’clock in the morning."

"It’s not inflammatory, it’s just a question."

"yeaaaaah, it’s really not," Stretch rubbed a hand over his face, "edge, i can’t get you to commit to dinner more than a day in advance, i’m not sure forever is in the game."

"Tomorrow could be forever."

"and they say romance is dead." Stretch said dryly. He was quiet for a moment, almost absently leaning into Edge's stroking hand. "you would look good in a dress."

"I would be wearing a classic tuxedo, thank you, and so would you. You’d look good in white, though."

"my magic with white?" Stretch snorted and shook his head, only to whine in displeasure when it displaced Edge's hand. He waited until long fingers were stroking his skull again before adding, "please, i’d look like a creamsicle. why are you even thinking about this? you're not knocked up are you?"

"Leaving aside issues of anatomy—"

"because don’t worry, i’ll take care of you and the baby."

"And leaving aside that even if it were possible, you would be the one knocked up—"

"i’ll work double shifts at the factory, we'll be okay, we’re halfway there, living on a prayer."

Edge sighed. "Can you be serious for two minutes?"

"i sincerely doubt it," Stretch said regretfully. "just so we’re clear, are you asking me to marry you or is this just some 3am speculation. curious minds want to know."

"I’m not sure," Edge admitted.

"great. well when you decide, wake me up and let me in on it." He snuggled back into the blankets, adding sleepily, "i think you'd look better in white."

"Wonderful. You'd be a creamsicle and I'd be a red velvet cake."

"at least we'd be set for dessert."

Stretch struggled to stay awake, waiting a moment just in case. Edge didn’t say anything else, only kept up his gentle stroking, and Stretch let himself drowse, ignoring the niggle of disappointment in his soul.

Forever was probably overrated, anyway.

-finis-


	12. Denim Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fashion plate, Stretch is not, but he still manages to look good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the thing I miss most about characters who are skeletons is getting to wax poetically about their backsides. That’s okay, they can still look good in jeans.

* * *

It was the jeans that were the problem. 

Stretch was not exactly concerned about fashion past wearing enough that he wasn't cold. Sweatpants, track pants, occasionally cargo shorts; he wore whatever ended up in his dresser and on rare occasions, what ended up in Edge's. So the sight of him ambling through the living room in a pair of skinny jeans did catch the eye.

"What the fuck are you wearing?" Edge couldn't help staring at Stretch. His own pants clung showily and why not? Edge knew what he looked like and there was no reason to hide it. On Stretch, though—

"you don't like 'em?" Stretch twisted to look over his shoulder. Levi Strauss was emblazoned on the label and the waistband clung to Stretch's pelvis, his iliac crests visible as his shirt pulled up. The legs clung to his femurs, outlining their shape, almost as exposing as simple nudity. "i told blue i don't have an ass for these." Stretch grinned. "he told me i _was_ an ass and that worked out even—woah!"

Stretch didn't fit particularly well in Edge's lap. For one, he was taller than Edge. Not by much, but enough to make it awkward. Second, he tended to squirm and that was generally a mixture of delightful and painful, depending on where his elbows landed. No, he didn't fit well, but it did help to tip him back, his jean-covered legs splayed over the sofa arm, angling him so that Edge could bite at his cervical vertebrae.

"okay, so we're doing this right now," Stretch laughed, his voice breaking on a squeak as Edge nibbled his way higher, biting a gentle line up his jaw. Edge pulled back enough to look at him; his eye lights were bright and widened, hazed faintly orange. He had both hands twisted into Edge's shirt, tugging and pulling at him, trying to yank him down. The feel of his demin-clad pelvis squirming in his lap was a delightful distraction. 

Edge leaned forward to claim the offered kiss and just before he could Stretch leaned back and away, just out of reach.

"Little bastard," Edge breathed.

"not little," Stretch teased. He wriggled again, deliberately, and Edge hissed out a groan at the pressure against his own pelvis.

Stretch was taller but he wasn't necessary stronger. Or at least he didn't try particularly hard to resist when Edge shifted them over and settled between his legs, pinned Stretch down on the sofa. 

If Stretch wouldn't give him a kiss, he was content to simply take one. The sweetness of his conjured tongue against Edge's made him groan, twining them together and stealing as many kisses as Stretch couldn't escape from. 

He caught beneath one knee, hauling Stretch's leg up so that he can get a hand under him. A bony pelvis and the firmness of his sacrum through denim greeted his hand, gripable and irresistible. He pressed his own knee between Stretch's femurs, against the hard bulge growing in the front of his jeans.

Stretch groaned, his voice catching and his hips arching up, "fuck, yes, there....there, oh, you ass, just, move, move your knee, you'll either make me come or castrate me but fucking do it!"

That perfect combination of eager and desperate, Stretch with his laziness cast aside, bare feet scrabbling against the cushions as he lost himself in his own want. Edge let Stretch ride against his knee, the rough scrape of denim burning friction against his own pants. Let him rock against him, his fingers digging in to Edge's shoulders and his sockets closed as he panted and strained, swearing brokenly when he came. Always lovely in his pleasure, pretty and wrecked, a flush of orange high on his cheekbones and Edge could feel the rush of heat against his knee, the wetness seeping through the fabric.

Edge gave him a moment, let him sag into the sofa. Then he slid his hand from Stretch's pelvis to the small of his back, forcing him to arch up while Edge rubbed against him, right where his femur met his pelvis.

"oh, are we both messing up our pants today?" Stretch asked, his sass muted by hoarseness, ruined by his own hands sliding down to Edge's pelvis encouragingly. 

It was a mimicry of fucking, the friction of fabric against his cock almost painful and Edge pushed harder, his sharpened fingertips scraping against denim as he dug in, thrusting harder. Wincing and straining, Edge groaned deep in his throat, hissing out his own curses between his teeth as he came in his pants. Stretch was laughing softly beneath him, biting gently at the line of his jaw as he tucked his fingers into the Edge's back pockets, holding him in. 

Weakly, Edge collapsing down on Stretch, allowing him to take all his weight without even bothering to hold himself up on his elbows

Until Stretch wheezed out, "you shit, move, i can't breathe!"

"You don't need to breathe," Edge mumbled, burying his face against Stretch's clavicle.

"yeah, but i've been doing it since i was a baby bones and i hate to break tradition. shift over."

It took more effort that Edge wanted to admit to move the few inches required to lay next to Stretch. He stroked his thumb over Stretch's denim-clad femur, followed it higher to where a darkened patch of damp was seeping through the fly. 

"you know, i need to change my pants now," Stretch said sleepily, "and you've given me work today because i'm going to have to do a load of laundry before my brother gets home."

"Throw my pants in, too," Edge mumbled. Beneath his thumb, he could feel Stretch's magic stirring in renewed interest, heat rising and firming beneath his touch.

Well, now.

It was considerably easier to roll back on top of him, ignoring his laughing protest to fit their pelvises together again. If they had to do laundry, they may as well make sure they had a full load. 

-finis


	13. Anatomy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge teaches himself a morning lesson

* * *

Stretch was still asleep when Edge came back from his morning run. His sockets were closed, his breathing slow and deep. The opened door let in a stream of morning sun and he made a disagreeable sound at the light falling across his face and rolled over, the blanket slipping off him to puddle around his pelvis.

He slept completely bare, not so much as bothering with boxer shorts. Edge had teased him once about it, pointing out that if there was a fire he'd be standing outside naked and Stretch had told him that no one else would even know to appreciate the view.

More fools, them.

Edge closed the door and toed off his shoes, moving to sit at the side of the bed and take in the view of his lover.

The ivory gleam of exposed bone was exquisite, smooth and seemingly untouched. He ran a gentle finger down the curve of Stretch's skull to his cervical vertebrae, following their uneven line to his clavicle, his scapula. Trailing along the curve of his ribs to his vertebrae. Down to his coxal and there was a glossy line around his hips where the waistband of his pants sat, the fabric wearing against the bone until it was almost polished. 

The blanket was a brief barrier, not to be borne, and Edge cast it aside, leaving him utterly bare to trace the strength of his femur, the delicate fibula mated against thicker tibia. Lower to his tarsals, his metatarsals, phalanges and—

"what are you doing?" Stretch asked sleepily. His foot twitched in Edge's loose grip but didn’t pull away.

Edge hummed thoughtfully. "I'm loving every part of you."

"ain't you precious in the morning." Stretch rolled onto his back, his legs sprawling lazily apart. At his pelvis was a soft glow, languid desire slowly warming. "wanna love a little more of me?"

Edge crawled up and over him, settling between his femurs, "Yes," he husked out, licking his own teeth before dipping his head enough to follow the same path over his cervical vertebrae with his tongue that his fingers had traced out earlier.

The sound Stretch made was laced thickly with want, his fingers scraping delicately over Edge's ribs, then clutching, his voice hitched as Edge slid lower, lapping his way down his sternum.

"oh, fuck," Stretch whimpered as Edge tasted his lumbar spine, his illium, ischium, his tongue moving in a slow, rolling rhythm, paired with Stretch's desperate squirms.

Pubic symphysis, he recited to himself, his thoughts overshadowed by Stretch's cry, femurs scraping roughly against his skull as Stretch convulsed beneath him. 

He fell back, quivering, and Edge shifted up to gently pet his skull, soothing his trembling.

"See? Edge murmured, "Every part of you."

"tell you one thing, you're damn thorough," Stretch muttered. His bones gleamed damply with sweat, tinted softly with his magic.

"You're easy to love," Edge told him and kissed him before the sarcasm could blossom, knew that Stretch could spit a bouquet of mocking words about himself that Edge refused to hear, not this morning.

Instead, he kept their teeth pressed together until Stretch relaxed against him, let his tongue create a new path along his mandible to his zygomatic bone, sphenoid bone, and along his coronal sutures.

Loving him.

-finis-


	14. Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge doesn't need sex.

* * *

Edge didn't think it would be fair assessment to say he needed sex. 

For years it had hardly crossed his mind; throughout most of his life any sexual urges were easily and perfunctorily sated with his own hand. Indulging in the bodies of other Monsters was a rare, risky extravagance; no amount of pleasure was enough to give any amount of power in Underfell. 

How he'd gotten to this place in his life where Stretch was astride him, riding him, Edge couldn't say. But to have this was worth giving up control.

Fuck, he loved this and couldn't stand it; the way Stretch rose and fell over him, a rhythm that wasn't his carrying them along. Stretch was taller than him but slighter; all his weight wasn't enough to keep Edge from bucking up, driving up into him, but the position stole away some of his leverage. 

Stretch had both hands braced against Edge's ribcage, his hips rolling slowly, deliberately. Head tipped back, his mouth open and his sockets winced shut, tight in concentration. Fucking beautiful, too beautiful, and Edge had to close his own sockets, couldn't look at him like this, he couldn't— _fuck._

"Stop," Edge gasped, fumbling to grab his hips, to force him to stillness. 

"what?" The word was blurred and hazy, his cunt rippling around Edge as Stretch automatically resisted the pull of his hands. It was useless, too late, and Edge choked out a helpless cry as he tipped over into orgasm, thrusting up hard once, twice, and coming in a slick, wet rush. 

It took him long moments to crack open his sockets again, glaring up at Stretch, who was staring down at him with wide eye lights.

"Fuck," Edge groaned, slinging an arm over his sockets. Only to hiss, flinching in oversensitivity as Stretch lazily circled his hips, grinding down on him. 

He looked back out and Stretch was grinning smugly down at him. "Fuck," he groaned again.

"gee, was it good for you?" 

"Shut up," Edge grunted.

"no, no, you never come before me, you control freak," Stretch said gleefully. As if demonstrating, he drew a hand along his own cock, still hard, rubbing his fingertips over the slickness at the tip.

"It’s not my fault you feel so good around me," Edge hitched his hips up, shivering at the way Stretch tightened around him; even lying here going soft inside him, Stretch still felt tight and hot. 

Faint orange tinted Stretch's cheekbones, his stroking hand faltering.

Edge smirked and covered Stretch's hand with his own, firming his grip, giving it rhythm. "Are you blushing when I am literally still inside you?"

"shut up," Stretch gasped, his fingers twitching in Edge's grip, tightening convulsively, and he screwed his sockets shut tightly as he came, the bright tip of his tongue caught between his teeth as he shivered, coming over their combined fingers.

Quickly, Edge caught Stretch as he sagged, pulling him in enough to rest their skulls together. Stretch shivered against him, soft quivers still racking him and Edge crooned wordlessly, comfortingly, stroking gently wherever he could reach, soothing him until Stretch calmed. Until he shifted off of Edge, limbs wobbly and coltish, curling up against Edge, close enough that he could feel the gentle, welcoming pulse of his soul.

Edge closed his sockets, holding Stretch against him, both of them still damp with sweat and spatters of magic. 

This. Sex was good, yes, but this, this was what he needed. This was what he loved.

-finis


	15. Keeping Elastic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Stretch's turn to be the de-aged one and as with so many things, results do vary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I have a set of shorts with Edge as the de-aged one  
> [ Here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14714039/chapters/34226237) and the sequel [ here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14714039/chapters/34259073), if you're curious. 
> 
> I had a powerful urge to write Stretch as the de-aged one today, although it's not as sweet and fluffy as Edge's. Why am I like this....

* * *

When Red texted him about what happened, Edge hurried through his morning rounds as quickly as he could while still maintaining his normal composure. He had no idea where his brother got his information but hearing that Stretch had gotten himself into some bizarre situation that had left him temporarily as a child seemed like an opportunity not to be missed.

This he had to see for himself. 

Once he’d checked in at every guard post, taking a moment to snarl at his brother for napping before it was even noon, and recalibrated every trap, he went home, ignoring the stares of the Snowdin citizens who were unaccustomed to seeing him at this hour. Even he was allowed to vary his schedule from time to time. 

He barely took the time to change out of his uniform before heading over to Underswap. A necessary evil if he wanted to avoid the attention of those who lived in that Snowdin. A quick jaunt through the machine’s portal and soon enough he was standing on the Swap brothers' porch, knocking firmly and waiting eagerly for a glimpse of Stretch as a pathetic child. He did hope Blue allowed him to take a picture or two.

The door was yanked open with a rush of displaced air and before Edge could so much as greet him, Blue snarled out, “What the hell do you want?!”

Edge blinked down at him in shock; he couldn’t recall ever seeing the little Blueberry as anything but cheerfully delighted to answer the door. 

To see him frazzled and actually profane was enough to make him want to double-check that he’d come out in the correct Universe.

He seemed equally surprised to see Edge, but it didn’t stop him from grabbing Edge by the hand and yanking him into the house. “Oh, thank heavens, come in, please.”

“What—” Edge stumbled after him, unable to even kick the snow off his boots before Blue was closing the door behind him, chattering on frantically. 

“Obviously you’re here to see Pappy and obviously you’re here to gloat so you can make fun of him later and normally that would just make me shake my head at you two and maybe a little sad but he’s been crying since Undyne dropped him off and I don’t know anything about children!” Blue burst out, words exploding from him until he ran out of breath, dropped his head into his hands as he heaved for air. 

“Um.” Edge stood frozen on their carpet, melting snow from his boots darkening it. This was not at all what he had been expecting. 

“Why would I know about children?” Blue demanded, his ranting carrying him away when Edge could only shrug weakly. “My brother raised me, and I’ve spent my time training for the guard, the closest I get to children is occasionally bumping into the ones who follow Alphys around!”

That was more than Edge ever interacted with them. He glanced around the living room and found nothing that hadn’t been there the last time he’d visited. “Where is he?”

“He was crying earlier and now he’s hiding. I don’t know what to do!” Blue sounded close to tears himself, miserably unhappy. “Maybe he’s hungry. Can you watch him for a moment while I make some lunch?”

“Me?” Edge took a startled step back and gave the door a longing glance. “I know less about children than you do!”

But Blue looked like he was on the verge of a breakdown, pleading shining in his eye lights, and Edge sighed. “Fine, just be quick about it.”

Blue disappeared into the kitchen so quickly it was a wonder he hadn’t learned to teleport. This was the price Edge paid for his hubris. Red had always warned him about the cost of revenge; if it wouldn’t bring the battle to an end, it was only going to increase the debt. 

He’d just never expected babysitting to be on the price list.

Edge sat on the sofa with a huff and wondered how he was supposed to watch a child when he wasn’t even certain where they were. 

The answer came in the form of rustling from behind him. The sound traveled down the length of the sofa to the end and from around the arm, a tiny skull poked up, peering at him with wide sockets and soft, pale eye lights.

“Hello,” Edge said awkwardly. This was Stretch and yet, it really wasn’t. The nickname hardly seemed appropriate for one who probably didn’t reach Edge’s knee. The child didn’t reply but he did come closer; the blue t-shirt he was wearing must have been his brother’s and it was still long enough to trail on the floor as he toddled up.

He stared up at Edge with peculiar solemnness. He did resemble Stretch, well, perhaps Rus was a more appropriate moniker. But it was obviously him. Edge wasn’t certain what he had been expecting. Perhaps a lazy child napping on the sofa or an exuberant one, laughing at ridiculous jokes and puns. It wasn’t this silent, wide-eyed little baby bones whose face was still streaked with drying tears. 

Suddenly, he held up his little arms, somehow both trusting and imploring. When Edge only looked at him, his small face crumpled into uncertainty and he started to take a step back, perhaps to crawl behind the sofa again.

So Edge carefully lifted him up, settling his slight weight on his knee. Apparently, he was too small a child to balance himself, so Edge held on to him to keep him from tumbling back to the floor. That Blue would prefer his brother to remain unbroken in Edge’s care was strongly implied. 

For the first time, a smile broke across Rus’s face. He giggled and bounced, seemingly happy with his newfound height for at least a moment. Then his smile faded and he reached out with cautious fingers. Edge kept himself from flinching away as he set a small hand against the crack in Edge’s left socket with startling gentleness.

“hurt?” he asked solemnly, in a soft, sweet voice that would someday turn into the lazy, sardonic one Edge was accustomed to hearing. Tears trembled again in his small sockets, at the verge of overflowing. The sight made Edge’s soul clench unexpectedly. 

“No. It doesn’t hurt anymore,” Edge told him quietly. They both jerked as the kitchen door swung open and Blue came through it, a tray in his hands. 

“All right, here we are…oh!” Blue sat the tray down and clasped his hands to his chest with hopeful delight, “There you are, Pappy, I—"

Instantly, Rus was scrambling from Edge’s knee into his arms, burying his face into his shirt and whimpering. It was automatic to pull him in close, cupping his small skull in one careful hand as he and Blue exchanged matching bewildered looks. 

Edge gently patted Rus’s quivering back, murmuring softly, “There, you’re all right, you’re safe.” While Blue looked on in hurt and confusion as his brother peeked out around Edge’s arm and shivered, curling back against him tearfully. 

“bad,” Rus whimpered, “bad.”

Edge had no idea what to say to that, only held him and tried awkwardly to soothe those tears. Eventually, Rus drifted into an unsettled sleep in the curve of Edge’s arm, with an occasional hiccoughing sob escaping him. Only then did Blue creep in closer. He pulled a blanket off the back of the sofa before sitting gingerly next to Edge, tucking it around his sleeping brother with tender care. 

“Why would he be scared of me?” Blue whispered. His normally starry eye lights were round and narrow, filled with his confused dismay 

“I don’t know.” Edge was more than confused himself. He would have thought his own features would be more frightening to a child than Blue’s rounded, happy ones. “How long did Undyne say he’d be this way?”

“She’s coming back for him tonight. She would have kept him at the lab, but she said it isn’t very childproof. Edge—”

He knew what Blue was going to ask and sighed, “I can stay until she comes back.”

“Thank you,” Blue gave him a weak smile. “I’m not sure what happened when Pappy was little to make him so frightened of me, but I’d rather not traumatize his second childhood, too. Not if I can help it.”

Edge nodded slowly, looking at the sleeping child cradled into the curve of his arm, so small and trusting. By tonight he’d be much taller, likely a cigarette dangling from his fingers, with insults and sarcasm poised lazily between his tongue and teeth to be wielded with razor-like precision whenever he worked up enough energy to do it. 

What had happened in between this child and that adult? Edge doubted very much that Stretch was going to volunteer any information. It made him wonder what his own brother would say if he asked. Probably less. 

He’d come over here expecting to find material to mock his not-quite-nemesis, perhaps take a humiliating picture or two. Instead, he’d stumbled across a mystery that he wasn’t certain how to solve. 

But looking at the sleeping child curled trustingly in his arms filled him with determination to try.

-fin-


	16. Southern Lights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, totally stole this idea from Cheapbourbon. They posted a lovely sketch on twitter and to quote them directly:
> 
> •Expedition leader/ survivalist guide Edge  
> •Theoretical astronomer Rus  
> •Location: Scott South Pole Station/South Pole Telescope  
> •Guest stars: snow, cold, stars, & budding affections
> 
> I needed this like breathing. So here is a little drabble. I took serious liberties with, oh, everything, so forgive me. I'm sick, my research brain could only do so much.

* * *

He wasn’t far from the station, sitting with his telescope aimed towards the night sky. It was too dangerous to go out very far in the cold, even as bundled up as he was. No one would have guessed from the heavy coat and hood the slim figure that was buried beneath it. 

Edge knew. And how he could not only write in the dark, but while wearing those gloves, Edge didn’t know. In his own gloved hands, he was carrying two cups of coffee, a blanket draped over his arm, and he walked out towards that shadowy figure.

Above them the aurora twisted in the sky in its silent, eerie beauty. He’d long ago stopped noticing it, until recently, when someone’s enchantment with it reminded him to look up. 

This was not the first expedition he had led to the South Pole Station. They’d stay for a few months and then he’d lead the group back to the pickup zone. It was an easy job and paid very well. Usually, he kept to himself, joining the others for meals and an occasional game of cards. 

Usually the group didn’t have anyone like Rus. 

“You’ve been out here for some time,” Edge said. He kept his voice low in the hush, handing him the coffee cup, and tucked the blanket around Rus’s shoulders.

He didn’t seem to notice, taking the coffee almost absently. Edge would have thought Rus hadn’t even heard him except for the way he rambled out, “it’s so amazing out here, you’ve no idea—”

“I’ve been living here on and off for two years,” Edge reminded him. 

“even the best telescopes can’t get such a clear view in the city, simply incredible—” 

His wild gestures knocked the blanket off and Edge caught it before it could land in the snow, tucking it back around him. 

“i’m not going to have enough time,” Rus went on, “there’s too much, i’m simply not, i’ll have to narrow the scope of my research, but how can i even choose? there’s so much to do—"

He took a distracted sip of his coffee, hissing as he suddenly learned it was still hot, even as he looked back through the eyepiece. The blanket slipped again, and Edge caught it, wrapping it more firmly this time. 

“You can always come back for another rotation,” Edge said. And smiled to himself as Rus took another absent sip of coffee, and again made a liquid yelp of pain. “You do know that’s hot.”

“yes, yes,” he flapped a hand dismissively. “of course, i’ll have to come back, of course.” For once, he looked up from his work, and the bright, excited gleam of his eye lights belonged completely to Edge. “you’ll be back too, won’t you?”

“I’d bring you back,” Edge told him. It was dark, the only light coming from the swirling aurora, but Edge could see the way Rus ducked his head and looked away, with a little smile. 

“that would be…i mean…oh!” Rus sputtered, flustered, as Edge gave up trying to keep the blanket around him and instead sat behind him, sliding his arms around Rus and tucking it around them both.

“You’ve got a half an hour and then we need to go back inside,” Edge warned. Even through all their layers, he felt Rus swallow. 

“…s…sure,” he stammered. But instead of picking up his pencil or peering back into the telescope’s eyepiece, he slowly leaned back, his gloved hands settling hesitantly atop Edge’s. He tipped his head back against Edge’s shoulder, his voice hushed, “it’s so beautiful, isn’t it?”

He meant the auroras, swirling through night sky above them. But Edge had seen his fill of them tonight.

“Yes, very beautiful,” he murmured, and never looked away from the one in his arms.

-fin


	17. A Bit of a Stretch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge has a few questions for Stretch after his de-aging incident. Stretch has a few questions of his own. Answers are the only thing that seem to be in short supply. 
> 
> A direct sequel to chapter 15,[ 'Keeping Elastic'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14714039/chapters/42482648)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a direct sequel to [ 'Keeping Elastic'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14714039/chapters/42482648)

* * *

_i need to talk to u. w/out my bro_

Edge looked at the text with a frown, reluctantly curious. It had been nearly a week since Stretch’s childish little incident, and he hadn’t seen him since Undyne had returned to take him away. Presumably she hadn’t had any difficulties returning him to his normal state or not that Edge heard from his brother. 

So why did Stretch want to speak to him now? 

Only one way to find out. Edge replied to the text, _Come to Underfell._

In less than a minute, there was a pop of teleportation and Stretch was in his living room, looking, well, exactly as he was supposed to. In an oversized orange hoodie, his hands tucked into the pocket, overtop track pants and untied sneakers with the laces damp from dragging in the snow. What wasn’t normal was his tight expression and before he could speak, Edge held up a hand. 

“Not here. Follow me.”

Almost, Stretch protested, his teeth parting. He seemed to rethink it and shrugged, following after Edge as he led them outside. The walk through Snowdin was brief and Stretch didn’t flinch, but Edge saw him twitch occasionally. He understood; it was strange to see mirror images of Monster you knew, ghosts of what someone could be.

He led Stretch out of town, past the bridge and to where the first of the traps were. Or last, depending on the direction of the travel. Edge pointed out a tree on the other side where a red light attached to the trunk was flashing. “Shortcut us over there.” 

“you hate shortcutting.” It was the first thing Stretch said since he arrived and he _sounded_ normal enough, that faint, sardonic note in his smoke-husky voice. 

“I do but it’ll take us past the trap without me having to recalibrate it.” A moment of queasiness was worth sparing an hour of effort.

His vision blurred and when it cleared, they were on the other side. It was slightly smoother than one of his brother’s shortcuts and Edge wondered sourly if Stretch was better at it or if Red was simply an asshole. Either option was possible. In any case, he only had to lean against the tree for a moment, waiting for his queasiness to ease before they walked on. Not far away was a sentry post and Edge wrinkled his nose at the smell of burnt dog biscuits, making a note to discuss the issue with Doggo before his next shift. 

When Stretch saw they were stopping, he ignored the chair and instead hopped up on the counter, long legs dangling. “why do you want to talk all the way out here? if you didn’t want to chat in the house, why not waterfall or something?”

“Waterfall is out of my territory and you wanted somewhere away from your brother,” Edge preferred to remain standing, crossing his arms over his chest and regarding his alternate evenly. “Sans…Red is the only person who does sentry duty in multiple areas because he can shortcut. He’s in Hotland right now so we are alone.” 

And Doggo’s post was one of the few places Red hadn’t been able to place his listening devices. The other sentry was far too attuned any unusual noises and was quick to find them. It was the closest Edge could come to a guarantee that Red wouldn’t be listening in, but there was no need to tell Stretch that. “Now, you wanted to talk.”

Instead of answering, Stretch lit a cigarette and normally Edge would snarl about him fouling the air around them. Today, he would grudgingly admit Stretch looked like he needed it. There was a faint, visible tremor in his hands and his eye lights darted around, almost hunted. Perhaps that could be chalked up to simply being in Underfell, but Edge didn’t think so.

He waited, clinging to patience while Stretch smoked until he finally threw down the butt and let it wink out in the snow.

“what happened when i was little?” Stretch asked abruptly. “blue won’t talk to me about it. he doesn’t not talk to me, okay, he tells me everything, but this he’s talking around and i don’t like that.” He fidgeted with his lighter, flicking it and letting the flame waver a moment before snapping it closed. “what he did say was you were there for a while and you helped out. so what gives? why is my bro so upset that i spent a few hours at knee high?”

Edge studied him. It seemed Blue wasn’t interested in solving the mystery of his brother’s past, whether in an attempt to protect him or to simply forget the entire incident, Edge wasn’t sure. But Edge saw no reason to hide from truths, even painful ones. 

“Whenever you saw him, you cried,” Edge told him flatly. “It helped a little when he changed his clothes, but you still refused to let him hold you. you spent most of the day with me until Undyne returned for you.”

He’d actually spent a better part of it sitting on Edge’s lap on the floor, happily banging together pots and pans, and stacking measuring cups, but Edge saw no reason to bring that up. Blue had been deemed reluctantly acceptable when he was no longer in his uniform, but it seemed little Rus was unwilling to forgive him for having worn it before. Edge suspected it was a very good thing he’d changed before coming to Underswap or the child might well have spent the entire day behind the sofa. 

To his surprise, Stretch went oddly pale, the color his magic lent to his bones fading, leaving him bone-white, and his eye lights shrank to pin pricks. He looked away, letting out a weak laugh.

“is that all?” He fumbled out another cigarette and lit it, exhaling with, “guess i'd be upset if kids cried whenever they saw my face, too.”

“I'm sure you would, but it wasn't kids, it was his brother,” Edge said slowly. “Why is that? Why would you be upset at seeing your brother?”

“beats me.” It sounded like a lie, thin and wrong. Stretch shrugged and it was somehow nervous, uncomfortable. “i don't remember much when i was little like that. hell, i don’t really remember much before i was a teenager. blue was barely out of diapers, so to speak, it's not like i knew him when i was a kid.”

“Someone who looked like him, then,” Edge pressed relentlessly.

“i...don't know,” Stretch said falteringly, “how would i know? it’s not like i remember being little either time, how would i…i don’t…”

He was shaking, his gaze wide and oddly vacant, and his cigarette fell from his limp fingers, hissing out in the snow. He looked as if he was close to fainting, all from a few simple questions.

"Put your head down," Edge told him brusquely. He moved to stand in front of him, forcing him to lean over when he didn't move. 

"i don't remember," Stretch whispered, almost inaudibly, "i…i don't…"

"Easy, you're all right," Edge told him softly, the same as he had when he'd been small enough to cradle in his arms. He made the attempt now, warily sliding an arm around him, and was forced to catch him when Stretch collapsed against him, almost sliding from his perch. 

Comforting him as a child had been almost a reflex, all too easy, and Edge found it was much same as an adult. The difference was Stretch didn’t cry. He trembled in Edge’s arms, the entirety of his surprisingly light weight leaning against him.

He was mumbling beneath his breath almost too quietly to hear, and Edge strained to catch the words.

There was little enough to hear, nothing more than the same words, over and over. “he’s gone, he’s gone.”

“He’s gone,” Edge agreed softly, although he had no clue who ‘he’ was. A wracking shudder went through him and abruptly Edge was reminded of being awoken by one of his brother’s rare nightmares. If they were rare. Red would never have allowed this sort of comfort, but somehow, it was easy enough to offer to Stretch, with his layer of sarcasm peeled away, leaving this frail vulnerability behind. Edge shifted, pulling him in close enough to rub his back, murmuring against his auditory canal, “He’s gone, you’re safe.”

It seemed to help. Slowly, the shivering eased. It took longer for Stretch to pull away, scrubbing against his face with a sleeve as though to clean away tears he hadn’t shed.

“sorry,” he said stiffly. “i…sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Edge told him, softly. There were more mysteries now than he’d started with and it was unlikely he’d be getting answers to them. Already he could see the walls falling back into place, the brief vulnerability he’d never suspected existed being tucked back away. The biggest mystery being left behind was ‘who’.

Whoever they were, they were someone a child was desperately afraid of, enough so that trying to remember him as an adult was nearly enough to cause a panic attack. One that had brought a too-quiet, frightened child to…well. To Stretch. He remembered that tiny baby bones, his sweet laughter as he played…his teary fear whenever his brother came too close…

Gone, Stretch had said, and that was a good thing or Edge might well have more LV for the others to disapprove of.

“i’m just…thanks, then, i guess,” Stretch laughed uncomfortably. Sitting on the ledge as he was, he couldn’t really withdraw from Edge, and though he shifted as if he wanted to, Edge didn’t remove his steadying hands. Not yet. “not sure where all that shit came from, but thanks for not ditching me to knock my skull against a tree.”

That sent a sharp throb through his soul. He’d meant it as a joke, Edge knew, but there was no humor in him when he quietly told Stretch, “I would never leave you alone like that.”

He wilted, whatever pride he’d been shoring himself up with was failing, and the way he leaned into Edge’s hands seemed somehow reluctant and yearning. That vulnerability, not yet hidden away, was soft in his voice as he said, “why do you even care?”

“Despite what you seem to think, I’m not soulless.”

Stretch huffed softly and his breath was harsh with cigarettes, sweet with magic. “i don’t think you’re soulless.”

“No, only that I replaced it with a chunk of coal.”

“you said it, not me.” 

He’d never seen Stretch smile like that or if he had, it certainly hadn’t been directed at him. Stretch was an irritant, smirking and smoking and…his smiles weren’t supposed to be soft and sweet, for once not mocking but instead almost inviting him to share the joke and—

“We should get back,” Edge said brusquely, finally stepping back, and he ignored the sharp, internal twinge when that smile faded.

“yeah, i should get home.” Stretch stumbled as he hopped down, tripping over one of those stupidly untied laces and it was a reflex to steady him, pulling him back up. It left him with his face inches from Edge’s, his sockets wide. He took a step back and Edge let him, his hands reluctantly letting go. “um, yeah, i really have to go.”

He vanished without another word, teleporting away and leaving Edge standing with his own confusion in the snow. 

Only to realize that Stretch had left him on the other side of the traps. An hour ago, that would have irritated him, but now Edge was almost grateful. 

It would take hours for him to make his way back home and that was fine. He could use something to do. 

-fin


	18. A Bargain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blue asked Edge to try harder to get along with his brother. This probably wasn't what he had in mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING:
> 
> This chapter has explicit sex in it. 
> 
> It contains if not hatesex, then a sexual encounter between two ~~assholes~~ people who don't like each other very much, at least not yet. It's also vaguely implied that sex is considered a form of currency in Underfell. I suppose that qualifies as prostitution and i don't want to trigger anyone. 
> 
> Not my usual fluffy happiness so I wanted to give a heads up.

* * *

Despite what some assumed about him, Edge was willing to agree that murder was not the solution to all problems, barely even a measurable quantity of them. That said, it was starting to seem like the best for this one and if Blue didn’t return with his groceries in the next ten minutes, he was going to find what remained of his brother in a dust pan. 

They were supposed to be here in Underswap for dinner, he and Red. Only, Blue’s training with Alphys had run over and he’d begged them to wait, to give him time for a quick run to the store and wouldn’t Red come along to help?

It was ridiculous to even think; that Red of all people would be better assistance than he was, and the only reason Edge agreed to stay was because Blue took him aside and quietly asked him to take the time to try to get along better with his brother. 

Not an entirely unreasonable request. He and Stretch tended to snipe viciously back and forth whenever they were in each other’s presence and surely it was wearying for Blue. Edge was…fond…of Blue, in a way rarely allowed in Underfell. He could try, for him.

It was a decision he was coming to regret. 

Said brother was currently lying on the sofa, humming a rousing rendition of ‘ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall’. The fact that he was humming it made it regrettably difficult to guess how long this particular torture would last. 

Red would scold the lack of control, but at what he guessed was the count of seventy or so, Edge finally ground out, “Would you please stop?”

He’d said please. That had to count as an attempt to be nicer. 

Stretch only sighed and flung an arm over his eye sockets, groaning out, “i’m boooored! this is boring, you’re boring,” he peeked out from under this arm and gave Edge resentful look. “you know, i told my brother i’d try harder to get along with you.”

Of course he had. “You’re doing a terrible job.”

“you’re not exactly making it easy, mister smalltalk.” He rolled over and his sudden, devious smirk did not give Edge any sense that they were about to miraculously find a common ground. “tell you what, we’ve got a few minutes before they get back. want me to suck you off?”

He supposed that Stretch took his silence as shock, because that smirk widened, “c’mon, edgelord. then you can tell blue we’re getting along real good.”

Again, Edge said nothing and Stretch shrugged, sitting up and snagging his pack of cigarettes. “too bad, bet it would have been a great bonding opportunity."

“Fine,” Edge said abruptly. 

If Stretch wanted to assume it was outrage that gave him pause, let him. But sex was a valuable currency in Underfell, and Edge only needed a moment to contemplate the worth of the exchange. 

Blue wanted them to get along and if this was the cost, he could play Stretch’s game. He was annoying but not unattractive and Edge was morbidly curious what he might ask for in return. He sat back in the chair and spread his knees, arching a brow bone at Stretch. “If nothing else it would be novel to see you do a little work for once.”

He hadn’t been aware that it was possible to actually choke on cigarette smoke. Stretch proved otherwise, strangling out a cough, tears limning from his sockets as he hacked away, and Edge waited patiently until he sucked in a harsh breath.

“seriously?” he wheezed.

“I said so, didn’t I? Unless you didn’t mean it?” The challenge made him bristle, as Edge knew it would, and he added, idly, “I’m a little surprised you’d offer. I was under the impression you didn’t like me.”

“please, if being an asshole was enough to keep you from getting laid, i’d still be a virgin.” Stretch stuck his cigarette into his mouth and stood, tucking his hands into his hoodie pocket as he looked down at Edge and there was something in his expression that Edge couldn’t guess at. 

“Well?” he drawled, offering a smirk of his own. He shifted his hips, the chair creaking beneath him, and he was already hard. It wasn’t as if it were a chore to get a blowjob and it would have the added benefit of shutting Stretch up. “They’ll probably be back in five minutes.”

“yeah?” With a surprising amount of grace, Stretch sank down to his knees, settling between Edge’s spread legs. “what will we do with the other four?”

The pressure of his thumbs sliding down his cock through his pants made him choke off a reply. Despite the time limit, Stretch didn’t seem to be in any rush, tracing the length of him where the shaft was visibly pushing against his fly. His cigarette was still burning, held carelessly between two fingers, uncomfortably close to Edge’s crotch.

“Put that fucking thing out,” Edge snarled, ignoring the breathless note to it. “I don’t need you adding a new scar to my collection.”

He expected an argument, a fuck you, perhaps even Stretch standing back up, telling him to fuck himself instead. 

He did not expect Stretch to look up at him, his sockets half-closed and eye lights hazy, running his tongue lazily over his teeth. “whatever you say, boss.”

It sent a throb directly down his spine to his cock. Before he could even recover, Stretch flicked the cigarette into an ashtray and reached for Edge’s belt, unbuckling it roughly. Unzipped his pants and tugged them down only far enough for his cock to jut out, practically falling into his greedy hands. The deep crimson of his magic was stark against the white bone, the tip glistening. 

“hm, not bad,” Stretch mused. His touch was almost clinical, measuring, and Edge hissed in dissatisfaction.

“Sucked enough cock to make you an expert?”

“maybe,” Stretch gave him a wink, “how about you give me a review when i’m done?” and before Edge could say another word, he ducked his head and swallowed him down.

“oh, fuck,” Edge gasped, knees jerking on either side of Stretch’s bobbing head.

His mouth was hot, perfect wet suction, his tongue curling around the shaft, and there wasn’t an ounce of hesitation in him, already moving in relentless rhythm. Drawing him in, sliding against the plush softness of that tongue, then sliding out, that brief moment of his wet pseudoflesh exposed the cooling air before he was sucked in again.

An impatient slap against his hip made him lurch and Stretch made a grumbling sound, vibrating gorgeously around him.

Well, if that was how he wanted it. He cupped a hand around the back of Stretch’s skull, his glove rasping against the smooth bone. With the other he took firm hold of his shoulder, holding Stretch still as he shoved up into his mouth. Fucked into his mouth, all that hot perfection and Stretch only moaned and took it, magic slipping wetly down his chin in trickles.

“Take it,” Edge grunted, thrust in roughly. “Take it, fuck, you slut, you obnoxious little _shit_ —“

There was a different sound, sharp and indignant, but he was past caring. He could feel Stretch swallowing, nearly choking, and pushed in hard, holding there while he came in hot pulses on the back of his formed throat.

He didn’t realize he was still holding Stretch’s head down until another slap struck his hip, this one slightly more frantic. He let go and Stretch fell back, panting desperately.

“okay, that worked. i’m not bored at all,” Stretch laughed. His face was a mess of smeared magic, Edge’s and his own. “and we still have three minutes and change before they’re supposed to be back.” He staggered to his feet, pulling out a bandanna that looked as if it had seen better days and wiped his mouth before stuffing it back into his pocket, “so, how would you rate your purchase?”

“Four stars,” Edge croaked. His hands were shaking a little more than he would have preferred as he re-buckled his pants.

“four!”

“The technique was fine. Points were lost for attitude.”

“guess i can’t win them all.” Stretch reached down to adjust himself in his pants, not even bothering with discretion, ah, and there was the other side of the coin. 

“Do you want—" Edge began, warily.

To his surprise, Stretch shook his head, scrounging again for a cigarette. “nah, not enough time.”

That…was not how these agreements were supposed to work. Unless there was something else Stretch wanted, and if sex wasn’t the currency—

What did Stretch want from him?

There was a tiny smear of crimson still on the corner of his mouth. Aside from that, Stretch looked utterly untouched, those few minutes left no mark on him. Edge was unpleasantly aware of the faint stickiness of sweat on his own bones, the uncomfortably damp feeling sitting at his crotch.

He stood abruptly and Stretch took a startled step back, shying away. Not far enough, Edge caught him by the front of his sweatshirt, yanking him down.

“what the fu-“ Edge cut off the protest with his own mouth, licking away that smear and then forcing his tongue between his teeth.

Stretch’s jaw tightened, his teeth grazing warningly. Edge ignored it, licking his taste off that tongue until he found the sweetness of a different flavor beneath it. Almost, he felt Stretch relenting, weakening, his tongue flicking uncertainly against Edge’s. Then he struggled away, shoving Edge hard enough that he nearly fell back down into the chair.

“what the fuck are you trying to pull?” Stretch snarled out, breathing heavily.

“You-“ the door opening cut him off, Blue’s cheery tones mingled with his brother’s sardonic ones.

“—honestly, grease is not a food group,” Blue was saying, clearly exasperated, “and I—oh, hello, Papy…are you all right?”

The front of his sweatshirt was slightly askew, a trickle of orange sweat trailing from his skull. Stretch was still breathing too heavily, the unlit cigarette trembling in his fingers.

Edge only took it in with a faintly primal satisfaction. He didn’t seem untouched now.

“yep, just fine,” Stretch managed. He flicked his lighter and took a puff off his cigarette, ignoring his brother’s indignation over him smoking inside, then nearly stumbled over to scoop up one of the bags. “lemme help you, bro, you probably want to get cooking.”

Blue stood blinking after him, visibly confused. He cast an uncertain look at Edge and followed his brother through the kitchen door. “Papy—"

The door swinging shut cut him off. Red took the time to kick off his shoes before wandering over, sitting on the coffee table directly in front of Edge.

“hey boss,” he said slowly, and Edge could only guess at what he saw. “what are you up to?”

“Negotiating a bargain,” Edge told him. Red only blinked in his own wary confusion but Edge didn’t bother explaining. Blue was about to get his wish because he and Stretch were going to be spending more time together, and soon. 

He suspected it would be worth the price. 

 

-finis-


	19. Nice Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is why we can’t have nice things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning** : This chapter contains a depiction of depression. 
> 
>  
> 
> Blerg, I’m in a mood. Here, have some of my mood.

* * *

They were supposed to be going to a museum, all of them, and even Red was interested in the current display of weapons through the ages. It would be a fun outing, Blue thought, for _all_ of them.

Which is why his brother wasn’t going to ruin it.

The others were all in Papyrus’s…ah…very colorfully painted Suburban, waiting for them. Only, Papy was sitting on the porch steps, smoking, while Blue bustled around him, clucking his dismay.

“Papy, you aren’t even dressed,” Blue sighed, taking in his brother’s ragged bathrobe, his faded slippers. “You need to hurry now, come on.”

He only shook his head. “nah, think i’ll stay here.”

There was something in his voice that gave Blue a pause. That dull, resigned note that said Papy was having a Very Bad Day.

Normally, Blue wouldn’t press. Pushing only made things worse, but…they’d been planning this, everyone was coming. Even Edge was sitting in the passenger seat, watching them with great impatience. Just this once, couldn’t Papy struggle through it? “Come with us,” Blue pleaded. “It’ll be nice, we’ll have fun! You’ll see!”

But he fell silent when Papy pulled him in for a hug, biting back a sniffle, but letting it go.

“i think it might be better for everyone if i don’t, kiddo,” Papy told him softly. “you’ll have a better time. and besides, i don’t really get to have nice things, bro.”

Blue drew away and followed the line of his brother’s brief, involuntary glance, already knowing where, or rather who, it was aimed at.

“Is Edge suddenly a nice thing?”

He shouldn’t have said it. Regret filled him the moment he opened his mouth. 

His brother went very still, the only tiny movement was his cigarette smoldering. Papy exhaled long and slow, his face briefly wreathed in smoke. “wasn’t he always?”

“Brother—”

“little bro, i’ve never wanted to talk about anything less.” Before Blue could try something else the blast of the car horn interrupted him, and there was no doubt that Edge was pushing Papyrus aside to honk it. Papy pushed himself to his feet, his slippers dragging as he turned to go inside. “have fun.”

Blue watched him, helplessly, and when the door shut, he turned away and slowly went to the waiting van.

“Not coming along, is he?” Edge said after Blue was in his seat. and his distaste was barely masked.

Suddenly, Blue had a vicious temptation to try one of the various attacks Alphys had drilled into him. He stifled it instantly; doubtless it wouldn’t work on Edge for long, even if he was caught off-guard and it wouldn’t help.

“No, he’s not,” Blue said shortly. He looked out the window and no one else pressed him, allowing him space. Papyrus snapped on the radio and promptly talked over it, gleefully extolling the merits of the museum they were headed to.

Blue kept his eyes on his own window, so he didn’t see the look Edge cast at his house, the shadow of worry that crossed his face.

You deserve nice things, Papy, Blue thought to himself. He deserved them.

Maybe someday he’d get to have them. 

-finis-


	20. Seeing From Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stretch is Not Okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is absolutely a sequel to the previous story, Nice Things, [(read it here)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14714039/chapters/43186145)
> 
> Because I needed it, I needed some comfort, so there we have it. Please be aware that this story features someone with depression. 
> 
> Enjoy

* * *

Stretch really wasn’t sure what time it was and couldn’t say he really cared. He’d been laying in bed for an indeterminate amount of time and he was probably going to be here longer. Knowing the exact count wasn’t exactly going to help.

If he had his phone, he could check it, wondrous little multitasker that it was. 

If. 

His phone was…somewhere. He should probably figure out where. Blue might call to check on him or text or something. It was more than likely he already had. Bad enough that he hadn’t been able to work up the energy to go with him today, now he was going to worry his brother.

He should care about that, probably, and Stretch closed his sockets, ignoring the ache in his chest as he remembered his brother’s pleading expression, his resignation when he accepted that Stretch wasn’t going to come along. The least he could fucking do was not worry him, the very least, but…yeah. He still didn’t move.

Piece of shit, he told himself, useless. Fail, failing, failed, yeah, that could be is past, present, and future, his own set of Dickensian ghosts to haunt him. 

The light coming through the windows had shifted quite a bit by the time he heard footsteps on the stairs, but Stretch didn’t think much about it past a little fading relief. Hey, at least he didn’t have to find his phone now, right? His brother would see he was alive, and if Stretch kept his eyes closed, let all his chatter wash over him like so much nonsense, he’d eventually go away. 

That was the way this worked and they both knew it, and it didn’t vary much, not even since they’d come to the surface. 

Until today, when script went sideways, and the blanket was suddenly ripped off him.

“what the fuck! what—” Stretch started to roll over, shock giving him enough of a spark for that, but it wasn’t his brother standing by the bed.

Edge was glared down at him, the blanket clenched in his fist and his eye lights fiery and piercing. 

Yeah, no. He couldn’t deal with this, not today. 

Stretch rolled back over, pulling down a pillow to clutch. It wasn’t as good as a blanket, but it was something to hold, something to sink his fingers into until the bones ached. 

“Is this what you’ve been doing all day? Sleeping?” Came from behind him, sharp and scoffing.

“you know, just because we’ve fucked a few times doesn’t mean you can come barging into my house or my room whenever.” Though to be honest, Stretch was having trouble even working up any resentment. The shock of having Edge here was already wearing thin and that gray dullness was settling over him again, a fog over his emotions that left them distant and muddled. 

Silence and his hopes that Edge would simply leave in disgust were quickly dashed. “Your brother was upset. I’d go as far as to say you ruined the day for him.”

Yeah, that was exactly what he needed to hear. How he ruined things for everyone, oh, yeah, that helped get rid of the yawning pit of dread that was sitting on top of his soul.

“would you get out? please?” He hated that border of rawness to his voice, barely shy of pleading, but there wasn’t much he could do about it, was there. Let Edge make of it what he would, so long as he left.

He heard the rustle as his blanket was tossed back on the bed, the shuffle of feet against carpet and cringed, waiting for whatever else Edge was going to throw at him.

Nothing could have prepared him to hear, softly, “You're not okay, are you.”

It wasn’t really a question and Stretch really didn’t want to answer, because the real answer was somewhere in the middle of ‘no shit, thanks for noticing’ and screaming. 

“look, i’m not in the mood to fight.” He wasn’t really in the mood for anything, he was _in a_ mood and fuck, please, leave, leave, leave…

“What do you need?”

“what?” That caught him off guard and was enough to spur him into rolling over again. 

Edge was looking down at him, arms crossed over his chest and he was still dressed in his ‘day out’ clothes, jeans and boots, only now it included the addition of a t-shirt with a picture of a skeletal dinosaur on it that stated, “I got boned at the Museum.”

A fresh ache settled in his soul, a sharp slice of pain; he’d missed getting to see Edge buying that, missed the laughing and teasing and mocking, all the possible puns and why? Because he couldn’t get out of bed? Just another nice thing that he didn’t deserve. Even that ache felt muffled, distant, a merry warning that later he’d think back on this and the real pain could start.

Edge didn’t seem to notice his internal conflict and only repeated, patiently, “What do you need?”

“i…don’t know?” It was a weak answer and it would probably piss Edge off even more, but it was all he had. Sometimes, Blue would come in on bad days and bring him lunch, dinner, and beg or bully him into eating and sometimes he’d try but…a flat-out question like that. He didn’t know. 

Edge didn’t seem angry, only nodded a little. “Are you thirsty?”

“maybe?”

“All right. Your brother always has tea. Would you like that? Or water? Juice?

Multiple choice seemed a little easier. “tea would be…good.”

Edge turned on his heel and walked out, leaving Stretch to stare blankly after him. He hadn’t gotten much success in straightening out the wild tangle of his thoughts by the time Edge came back with a steaming mug.

“Do you want it now or do you want me to set it on the table?”

“i’ll take it.” It was at least worth sitting up for. The mug was comfortingly warm in his hands and the tea was generously sweetened with honey.

It made helpless tears prick in his sockets. At least it was something pushing through the gray, even if it hurt.

“What else do you need? Are you cold?”

 _I wasn’t before you yanked the blanket away_ , was on the tip of his tongue. He didn’t say it, couldn’t, not while Edge was here and for some reason being kind, he didn’t deserve kindness, he… 

He managed a short nod.

Edge picked up the crumpled blanket and shook it out briskly before draping it over his shoulders, wrapping him in the soft folds. Stretch sipped his tea and watched blankly as Edge kicked off his boots and settled in to sit with headboard at his back, his hands loose in his lap. They sat there together in silence until Stretch managed to drink about half the tea before it grew cold. He didn’t resist when Edge took it away and set it on the side table. 

“Do you want to try to sleep?” Edge asked. 

“no!” Too loudly, but no, fuck no, he wanted to lay here, yeah, but not sleep, not…not sleep. There was the faint taste of salt on the back of his throat, those tears stupidly threatening, and Stretch swallowed it back. Edge only nodded. 

Very softly, like the secret it probably was, Edge said, “Sometimes, when Red is having a bad time, he likes to sit with his head in my lap and listen to music or podcasts.”

That…yeah. That was like, some forbidden knowledge getting dropped on him. Worse, it sounded like something he could want but couldn’t take. Too much kindness, he didn’t, why was Edge doing this?

He didn’t resist the guiding hand on his shoulder, drawing him down, until his skull was settled on a bunched-up corner of the blanket atop Edge’s knees. Those distant, muffled tears suddenly became much more pertinent and Stretch curled into himself, desperately trying to stifle them. 

The hand on his shoulder slid up to his skull. Edge must’ve taken his gloves off when Stretch wasn’t looking because the bones of his hand were warm, soothing, and Stretch gave up. He buried his face into the blanket and wept, because beneath that awful numbness he hurt in a way he couldn’t describe, couldn’t wish away, and Edge was being so terribly kind, and it was all too much.

He cried until his sockets ached and his face was crusted with used magic, and Edge only sat there and let him, rubbing that soothing hand across his skull and down his back. When they finally dried up, he was empty of everything but exhaustion and feeling faintly sick. 

Edge shifted, drawing away and Stretch let him go, fuck, who couldn’t blame him for wanting to escape this shitshow. 

But he only murmured, “I’ll be right back.” And he was, with a wet washcloth and that coolness wiping his face was about the closest to heaven Stretch figured he’d ever get to.

When he was clean, Edge set the cloth aside, refolded the blanket so a dry place was topside, and gently urged Stretch to lay back down even as he asked, “Do you want to be alone or do you want me to stay?”

“stay,” he whispered. He didn’t ask why, didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to hear that it was pity or for Blue, or trying to keep him holding it together until the next time Edge wanted to get laid. 

It didn’t feel like pity. It felt like 

_(Caring)_

It felt good. 

Edge didn’t talk, only sat with him. Falling asleep was reluctant but necessary, and Edge was still there in the morning when Stretch woke up. He was lolling back against headboard, asleep, and he was wearing that stupid, awesome t-shirt. His neck was going to be killing him when he woke up, probably his back, too. But he’d stayed and Stretch felt…well.

He wasn’t okay, but he thought he could almost see it from here.

-finis


	21. Acquiring Debt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge does not like to be indebted to anyone. 
> 
>  
> 
> Sequel to 'A Bargain'. Link is in the notes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone informed me that [ 'A Bargain' (read here)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14714039/chapters/43156343) required a sequel. I am nothing if not obliging. 
> 
> This is dirty, dirty porn. Explicit sex. Enjoy or avoid, whatever your preference. ^_^

* * *

It was becoming very evident to Edge that he hadn’t given Stretch enough credit as a fighter. Because while he had no true gauge of his attack capabilities, his ability to evade was nigh on perfect. 

Ever since their brief time together to ‘bond’, as Blue phrased it, two weeks ago, Stretch was managing very effectively to never be alone with him, and did so with surprising cunning. He could play the game of entering through one door and exiting another as well as Sans and Red, it seemed, vanishing soundlessly if Edge followed him into the kitchen or the living room. It was frustrating.

It was intriguing. 

But the debt of the last time hanging over his head was an aggravation he was not about to bear, and he wasn’t about to allow Stretch to draw this out, taking extra pleasure in his discomfort. 

Edge had a plan of his own and tonight he would implement it. 

It was movie night and the Tale brothers were hosting, or rather, Papyrus was, and Sans was doing his best to meld in with the sofa cushions. The coffee table was littered with drinks and bags of potato chisps, surrounded by bowls of dip, two mostly consumed and one carefully disturbed in a way that made it seem as if it was being eaten. 

The room only held one sofa and one chair, with other chairs from the dining room being called in to service. Sans, Red, and Stretch claimed the sofa early on and Edge would not take the only comfortable chair from their host. He sat stiffly in the hardback wooden chair, waiting for his chance. 

Half a movie in, it came, as he’d known it would.

“gonna step out for a smoke,” Stretch pushed up to his feet, living up to his namesake with a bone-popping groan. “back in a mo’, bros and hoes.”

“Brother—” Blue said exasperatedly, while Sans snickered and Red gave him the finger. 

“eh, i didn’t say who was who,” Stretch grinned. He shuffled over to the door and in the moment where it was open but before he stepped through, Edge struck. He stood quickly, stepping up on silent feet.

“I’ll come with you,” he stated aloud, one hand circling Stretch’s humerus. He caught a glimpse of Stretch’s startled face but pushed on, their forward momentum carrying them through the door before Stretch could even form a protest. 

Stretch pulled away the moment the door closed behind them, stumbling down the steps to the snow. 

“what the fuck are you doing?” Stretch hissed, giving the door behind him glance. 

No one else was investigating, as Edge knew they wouldn’t. Red wouldn’t understand _why_ Edge wanted to speak to Stretch but he would certainly understand that he did, and was likely kicking up some sort of fuss to draw the attention of the others. A bad joke or a pun would go a long way as a distraction, and he could count on Red for both. 

“I wanted to talk to you, and you’ve been avoiding me,” Edge said bluntly. He didn’t miss the way Stretch’s eye lights slid away from him, wandering to the Gyftmas lights draped from the house with bland, false interest. 

“really haven’t, edgelord, dunno where you get these—” Edge stepped forward deliberately and Stretch danced back, demonstrating that he was as light on his feet as Red, after all. 

“Why are you…I’m not going to hurt you!” Edge snapped. How was it possible that with one act, he’d somehow made Stretch wary of him when he’d never had the sense to be before?

Stretch gaped at him and then laughed shortly, shaking his head. “the last time i let you get close, you stuck your tongue down my throat!”

That was unexpected information. One act, yes, but apparently not the act that Edge assumed was the issue. He raised a brow bone, watching as Stretch pulled out his cigarettes and lit one. Foul as they were, if they soothed some of Stretch’s agitation, it would be helpful. 

He let Stretch have a few smoky breaths then asked, lightly, “You prefer my cock?” 

It earned him a startled cough and a glare, and he only looked back, waiting.

“yeah, actually,” Stretch snapped, “look, it was a one-time offer, find someone else to pester if you’re trying to get laid.”

“I don’t owe anyone else,” Edge said, a little of his testiness slipping into his voice. Why did the other universes always have to be so difficult?

Stretch stilled, his cigarette frozen halfway to his mouth. He lowered it and gave Edge a look that he couldn’t read. “owe?”

With exaggerated care, Edge explained, “You sucked me off and got nothing in exchange. I’d prefer to clear our debt sooner rather than later. So, what do you want?”

Red was the one who was an expert at reading faces. Edge couldn’t guess what the complicated expression that crossed Stretch’s face meant. But he blew out a sharp breath, tossing his cigarette down to hiss out in the snow. “okay. fuck me.”

That made him blink, unexpected, “Fuck you?”

“yeah. right here,” Stretch said challengingly. He raised his arms and gestured to the snow surrounding him, the empty streets. “if you wanna clear your ‘debt.’”

The finger quotes were highly unnecessary, and Edge nodded. “Very well.”

He grabbed Stretch’s wrist and tugged him along, drawing him around to the side of the house that bordered the garage. He stumbled along with him, grunting as Edge shoved him hard against the side door.

“hey!” Stretch sputtered out. Whatever his protests were, they faltered as Edge slipped a hand into the front of his pants to press his fingers between his legs. A cunt greeted him, too dry yet and unprepared, but quickly growing slippery as he stroked. 

“You said right here,” Edge reminded him. It was dark enough that even with the glow of the Gyftmas lights anyone would have to be passing very close by to see them and at this hour, the streets of the Taleverse version of Snowdin were empty. 

“okay, yeah…oooh,” Stretch groaned, spreading his legs wider to let Edge’s fingers slip inside him, fingering the soft folds until he was wet and whimpering, shivering with need and likely a little cold.

Edge pulled his hand free, raising it to his face and inhaling deeply. The sweet musk of Stretch’s magic was too tempting to resist; he licked his slick fingers, sucking them clean and watching as Stretch’s eye lights widened.

That sweetness was gone too quickly and for a moment, he mourned that going to his knees to steal a more direct taste was not in the bargain. Instead, he undid his own belt, lowering his trousers enough to free his cock, wincing at the chill air. He slapped away Stretch’s hands when he reached for it, instead reaching out to yank his track pants down. 

“what are you—” Stretch squawked as Edge caught hold of him and lifted, hooking Stretch’s knees over elbows. It was awkward, clothes caught between them and Stretch’s shoes resting on his shoulders, but this was no place to undress and they didn’t have time for it, anyway. He pressed Stretch against the door, his cock grazing the slick opening, but the angle was wrong. 

“Put me inside you,” Edge said harshly and even in the darkness he could see a faint flush rise in Stretch’s cheekbones. But he did it, fumbling between them until he could line Edge’s cock up with his softened entrance, enticing warmth amidst the cold around them.

With a shift of his hips, Edge pushed inside, sliding in deep, and Stretch scrabbled against him frantically, fingers digging in, “oh! oh, fuck!”

“Am I hurting you?” Edge grunted, pausing until Stretch shook his head frantically. 

“no!” Stretch gasped. His cunt clenched tight as Edge pushed in deeper, but his garbled cries held only desperate encouragement, “ah, you…shit!”

Awkward as it was, Edge managed to shift Stretch’s weight enough to cover his mouth with a hand, hissing out, “Be quiet!”

Not that anyone nearby couldn’t guess what was happened. They thumped against the door with every thrust in a telling rhythm, Edge driving hard into him, again and again. It was unexpectedly overwhelming, the hot slickness of Stretch’s cunt around him, the faint burn of effort in holding up his light weight against the door, the muffled cries and pleas caught in his hand. 

He could feel Stretch getting close, the exquisite rippled around his cock as his pussy clenched in a telescoping grip, and Edge bit his tongue until he could taste his own magic, focusing on that bright pain as Stretch shook in his arms, his eye lights rolling back as he quivered.

Edge waited until the aftershocks slowed before starting to pull out. Only to pause at the sudden, furious sounds coming from behind his hand. 

He pulled his hand away, “What?”

“what are you doing?” Stretch whispered, indignation dripping from each word as readily as the slickness down his femurs.

“You came.”

That brought a fresh wave of outrage, the paleness of his eye lights shading to orange. “you didn’t. you aren’t stopping.”

“That wasn’t the deal,” Edge reminded him, letting that faint orange flare even brighter before he offered, “If you want a new bargain, then let me kiss you.”

For a moment, Edge honestly thought Stretch was going to form an attack; he’d never fought anyone with his dick hanging out before and was not looking forward to the challenge. Instead, he rocked his hips, pressing deep into welcoming slickness and watched the sharp irritation haze, dimming.

“…fine,” Stretch groaned, the word swallowed instantly in a hard kiss. Teeth caught at Edge’s invading tongue with punishing pressure and he didn’t care. He only licked into that mouth until he found the sweetness beneath the faint bitter of smoke, even as he fucked into Stretch again. The slick sounds of their coupling matched with the soft thuds of the door and every soft, sweet cry that caught in Stretch’s throat. 

His own groans were spilling into Stretch’s mouth, helplessly. He was close, unable to stop driving into that wet, clenching heat, greedily trying for deeper, for more. Until that slick pussy tightened again and Stretch choked out a wail, his finger bones scratching at Edge’s skull hard enough to leave marks as he came with a breathtaking convulsion. 

Edge broke the kiss to watch his face tightening beautifully, his mouth colorfully smeared with both their magic the same as his cunt would soon be. That thought, coupled with the view and alongside the rippling constriction around his cock was enough drag him over into his own pleasure. He pressed deep, coming hard inside Stretch, groans escaping through his clenched teeth. Until he sagged, his knees weakening, leaning them both heavily against the door as he panted, their breath mingling the same as their bodies had.

All too soon, Stretch was squirming in his arms. “let me down.”

Slowly, Edge did, lowering his feet back to the ground…and catching him when he wobbled unsteadily, his pants sliding down to puddle on top of his shoes.

The darkness robbed the world of most of its color, but he could still see wetness trailing down Stretch’s femurs, glistening in the Gyftmas lights. Unsteadily, Edge reached out to touch, fingers sliding as he drew them upward, slicking them.

“thanks for the help, but i can clean up on my ow—” the word broke on a squeal as Edge pressed his fingers into him, pushing his come back inside. Stretch’s cunt was stinging hot, surely still sensitive, and it was not unexpected to have his hand slapped furiously away. “stop that, you fucking pervert!”

“Here.” He pulled a handkerchief from his inventory and Stretch snatched it away from him furiously, wiping up the mess as best he could. Edge watched deliberately while fastening his own belt, even as Stretch glared at him, jerky anger in his movements.

“aren’t you afraid of getting more debt from watching the show,” he asked, snidely, tugging his pants back into place. Almost, he tossed the soiled cloth down and visibly hesitated, the handkerchief vanishing into his own inventory instead. It would seem even he didn’t want to leave evidence for their hosts to find in the morning. 

“Not if you’re going to stand in the open like that,” Edge told him easily. Whatever Stretch was muttering beneath his breath was fouler than the cigarettes he was taking out, but before he could light one, Edge grabbed the front of his sweatshirt and pulled him close, ignoring his startled yelp to steal another kiss. 

Stretch’s mouth was no less furious than the sounds escaping it, and Edge winced as his tongue was truly bitten this time, the taste of his own magic overshadowing the sweetness of Stretch’s. He drew back, touching his tongue and looking at his fingers, reddened with his magic.

There was a smear of it on Stretch’s teeth as well and his eye lights were a fury, gloriously orange. 

Edge only smirked, licking his own teeth. “Now that? That was a debt.” He turned to walk back to the house, calling back, “Let me know what I owe you.”

The amount of swearing behind him was astonishingly creative, cutting off as Edge stepped back into the house. His entrance was only worth a couple of curious looks and this time, Edge settled to sit on the end of the sofa next to his brother, already anticipating the seething from Stretch over him stealing his seat. 

Red’s glance at him lingered tellingly, and he leaned in close enough to murmur, too low for the others to hear, “guess you’re one of the hoes.”

“Time will tell,” Edge told him, softly, ignoring the movie.

Soon enough the door was going to open, and he didn’t want to miss the show. 

He’d paid enough for it, after all. 

 

-finis


	22. Blue Skies and Silver Sails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the urge to see these boys in a bit of a steampunk setting, with Edge as an airship captain and Rus as his engineer who hardly ever blows anything up.
> 
> This is my attempt to get that out of my system. ^_^

* * *

It was a relief to have the port town at his back and Edge’s boots thudded on the gangplank as he stormed up it. Behind him, Undyne was shouting, directing the crew to stow the supplies they’d brought back with them, getting everything onboard and ready for lift off.

Their patron from the last job was one of the supposed elites of the territory, piggish eyes peering out from his scabby face and his swollen fingers heavy with gaudy rings that Edge’s experienced eye knew were hardly a step above costume jewelry. But he’d paid, and handsomely, and now all Edge wanted was to get away from the grime and filth of this stars-forsaken port, and the ghostly-thin inhabitants that watched them hungrily, a scrawny contrast to their supposed benefactor. All Edge wanted was to get into open air.

The smoggy, soot-filled air here was stifling, choking even the hardiest sailor. Once they were over the sea, gliding through the clear blue skies, the cooling breezes teased with ocean salt would be a relief.

Their flight plan had them leaving within the hour but a glance up made him frown. The solar sails were billowing, glinting silvery in the sunlight, but the light panels were dim. There was no power flowing and Edge wanted to know why.

Most of the crew was already back on board. Undyne would be keeping track of any stragglers, and whether or not they waited for any of them would depend entirely on their worth and her goodwill.

Whatever greetings or salutes anyone might have offered shifted to a quick scramble to get out of his way as Edge stormed below decks, all the way down to the darkened corridors of the engine room.

Edge turned the release wheel on the hatch impatiently, slamming it open to snarl, “What the hell are you doing to my ship?!”

To his horror, what looked like half of the engine was spewed on the floor in piles of gears and wires. From deep within the ship’s innards, a gangling figure nearly fell free, as if birthed from the machinery itself and Edge wouldn’t have been surprise to hear that was his origin.

Rus scrambled to his feet, the eclectic collection of tools attached to his belts jangling. His eye lights were ridiculously magnified behind wide lenses, gears turning as the goggles automatically swapped lenses in an effort to focus, until he pushed them back to perch precariously on his skull. He grinned winsomely, stepping past the piles of parts as though somehow Edge might have failed to notice them.

“heya, cap, you’re back early, the trade off went well, yeah? gonna have buns for tea and brews for dinner—“

“What have you done to my ship?” Edge ground out, cutting off his stream of inane babble.

Rus snagged up a dirty cloth and scrubbed useless at his hands. From the condition of the rag, he might well be adding dirt instead of wiping it away. As always, he was head to boot with grease. There was even a smear of it on his cheekbone and it was ground so deeply into his finger joints that they never came clean, no matter how hard he scrubbed.

“aw, no need to fret about your girl, she’s doing fine. been needing to replace some of the air seals and work on the compressor hub. don’t worry so much, surgery always looks bad from the out—ack!”

He winced as Edge shoved him back against a bulkhead, his tools rattling and his face a bare inch away as Edge growled, “We need to be ready to go in an hour!”

“and we will be, it’s going through the last diagnostic now. All this shit is clean up, it can wait until we’re in the air.” Rus smirked, uncaring of the fist still gripping the front of his shirt. “you that ready to hit wind?”

Slowly, Edge loosened his grip, letting the fabric slide free. Grudgingly, he said, “I can’t stand this filthy port. Nothing but slavers and weed-chewers surrounded by smog from those ancient coal furnaces. It feels like the foulness clings to you.”

Rus ran his tongue slowly over his teeth, his sockets sliding half-closed, “you look pretty clean to me.”

Edge pushed him away with an irritated grunt. “Not now.”

“wouldn’t dream of distracting you, captain, not before a take off,” Rus pulled a ratchet from his belt, twirling it nimbly between his fingers before promptly dropping it. He scooped it back up without a hint of sheepishness as he said, “but when undyne finally decides pull her metal hand out of her ass and takes over for the night, you’re mine.”

It was still daylight, if whatever meager light that fought through the smog could be called that. But the hatch was closed and Edge caught the front of Rus’s shirt again and pulled him in close, watched his eye lights widen as Edge breathed into him, “Always.”

The only clean part of him was his mouth and Edge took it roughly. He smelled of grease and old tobacco, tasted of heavenly sweetness that Edge could only compare to a deep breath of the wind over the sea. 

Rus yielded with a moan and would have sagged into Edge if he hadn’t been holding him away, sparing his own clothes from the layer of grease coating him.

He drew away reluctantly, slow to relinquish that sweetness, taking in the haziness of Rus’s eye lights with satisfaction. Then he yanked his goggles back down, snapping them into place with enough force to make Rus yelp.

“Get my ship in the air.”

“aye, aye, captain,” Rus gave him a sloppy salute then turned to crawl back into the machinery.

Edge allowed himself a brief moment to watch those slim hips wriggle, then turned away. Even if the sails would soon be ready, there was plenty to do yet before they took to the skies.

But tonight—

Tonight his cabin windows would be thrown wide open to let in the salt air, his ship rocking gently with the air currents, and Rus would be drowsy in his bed, most of the grease washed away to reveal the sweetness beneath.

The gold was still heavy in Edge’s purse from their last job and that was the cost to keep his ship. Visits to filthy ports and jobs from true monsters.

But to have this was worth any price. 

-finis-


End file.
